White Blank Page
by StillHaddicted
Summary: Season 6, right after "The Choice". Cuddy's relationship is happy and solid, which leaves House in a sad place. And when he asks for some days off, he doesn't look like he will enjoy a nice vacation (rated M if you stick with it)
1. Chapter 1

_Going through the stories I wrote, I thought this one could be a nice pick as next on the list._

_We were back in the dark Luddy days when I wrote this, therefore you might not like part of it. The main inspiration for this story was the ending of season 6 episode "The Choice", when House tells Cuddy friends is the last thing he wants them to be. So expect lot of angst and don't forget to let me know what you think._

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1

He looked like he needed to talk to her, but didn't want to. As if he'd been there vainly hoping to run into her, and at the same time fearing to. But since it was her office the room on which door he was standing at, since it was the middle of the morning and he had been the one coming to see her, Cuddy found his puzzled and almost scared expression hard to understand. Not to mention how unease House made her feel, how out of place his presence there made her feel despite that was her office, the bulwark of her fortress. Sadly, however, that was nothing new.

She had tried, and as the dean of medicine she had to admit it, House himself had tried not to make things awful between them. Cuddy was well aware House could have royally screwed up with her and Lucas if he'd wanted to, if anything to fight back and feel alive: instead, he had chosen what probably was the most unfamiliar path for him. Non-intervention, lack of response, something she had regretted a few days before, when House had told her friendship for them wasn't an option anymore. What was she thinking back then? As she had walked down in the hallway to his office that day, she should have trusted the nausea twirling her stomach. Yet, she had stubbornly ignored the warning message and had gone to him, with an off-key offer and no real strategy.

Never, never ever show up at House's battleground with no strategy. She should have known… Then, looking at House then, standing on the door of her office, still wide open as he needed to know escape was at a safe reach just, slightly biting at his bottom lip expressing his discomfort, Cuddy had the impression she hadn't been the only one neglecting the basic rules of engagement.

Thousands, millions of thoughts invaded her mind, while her eyes were busy scanning his face and body. She found nothing but a deep unreadable silence that could only scare her even more. Cuddy felt it, she sensed the moment she was not waiting for at all had come: the confrontation more likely they both felt they needed, as much as they didn't want to face it. She gulped down and found her mouth dry, there was some water right there on her desk but Cuddy didn't dare to move. She wasn't ready to face that moment, and he seemed unwilling to give any hints as to why he was there.

Six feet across the room, feeling the artificial breeze of the air conditioning on the back of his neck, his skin right there shivering all of sudden, House couldn't know his mouth was in the same conditions as Cuddy's. However, unlike her, House could count on a previous, painful experience in how to deal with the waterfall of emotions sharing the space with her gave him: a mix of desire and impotence, as much as hope and frustration, he had soon learned to master.

By emotionally throwing up everything and flushing the toilet to get rid of it all.

Yet it took him a while, more than what he honestly thought, to realize given the circumstances the only fair thing would have been for him to make the first move. Then he gulped down again, the saliva he finally felt inside his mouth gave him some strength, along with the knowledge he wasn't in the right position to ponder things and entertain himself wasting time.

"I need to use some of those vacation days I have left."

It wasn't a request, not by any chance, yet despite his assertion, Cuddy didn't sense any trace of confidence or boldness in his voice. There was a small, almost imperceptible, movement on Cuddy's face muscles as he spoke that House didn't fail to notice. No matter the distance and the gloom wrapping the room, he wondered if she could see his jaw clenching the same way. His knuckles wedged violently around his cane, as his worst fear seemed to materialize in the curios and intrigued grimace on Cuddy's face, chewing in his mind the silent pray for her not to ask, not why or to do what, not even how many days he was talking about-

_C'mon Cuddy, don't let me down now,_ House thought, his own voice almost screaming in his mind to overcome the loud rumble of his own heartbeat hammering inside his chest and head. _I count on you._

Counting on the fear, insecurity and shameful sense of guilt he had seen on her face, every time he had looked at her since the day she had come to his office offering friendship. She regretted that move like big time and the way she had been trying to compensate since then, ignoring him unless she didn't really have to cross her ways with him, had been the one thing he had truly counted on as he had decided to step inside her office. Showing a boldness he didn't feel, House addressed his eyes straight on her, taking out of a dusted drawer that digging gaze he hadn't used with her in a while. Cuddy felt it. Oh yes, she suffered the power of his eyes melting right there on her chair, unable to move or speak, her breath and heart skipping a little.

_I have all the rights to_, Cuddy was thinking, the only thing she was capable of with the disturbing feeling of House reading her mind. _I should ask why, I should check if he really has some days left, I have to-_

But she didn't. How could she? She might have had the right as his boss, but frankly when it came to boss House around… And he did have those days, as his boss she knew exactly how many with no need to check. As his boss, she could have asked who would have taken care of his department during his absence. Then again, looking at him in that moment, the boss inside her told her he had already taken care of all the boss's related stuff she might have asked him.

And since the boss's ones were then, by his very own declaration, the only issues they were supposed to have in common and discuss, there was nothing much she could say.

"Ok," she finally answered, her voice came out a little weak but she fought the need to clear her throat to make it stronger. "Just make sure your team can reach you if they need to."

The relief she saw on House's face was utterly confusing, he looked like he knew permission would have come yet as he had doubted it. When he nodded at her before stepping back, Cuddy felt as if she had just missed something. She couldn't tell what exactly, not with House already gone taking away any clue for her to read, but left alone in her office the dean of medicine worked the rest of the day with the disturbing feeling of having neglected something she shouldn't have.


	2. Chapter 2

_I can see we're having a slow start with this one, hopefully this will kick off things a bit._

_House came up with a mysterious request, and Cuddy obliged despite herself._

_A side note: the title of this story was inspired by the lyrics of the "Mumford &amp; Sons" song "White Blank Page"_

**_IMPORTANT NOTE: reading some reviews I feel like I have to specify. This is a Huddy story, all my stories are so keep faithfully reading_**

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2

Like the stain you can't get rid of, no matter how hard you try. Like the fly trapped inside the car with you, buzzing all over the place. She hadn't been able to get rid of that feeling since House had left her office the day before. He was gone, for the day as a start, making clear whatever the secret reason-

_There is no secret, I just didn't ask._

-for his departure it was urgent. And she haven't heard of him for the following one either, nor she had heard anything from his team-

_Well maybe because I didn't even ask._

-and her day had easily flew with work, until then, at home with her family. Cuddy couldn't get her confrontation with House out of her mind, feeling guilty for haven't insisted further in asking for information. Then again, was it any of her business? House hadn't done anything wrong, he had done nothing at all actually, other than asking the proper way for something he was entitled to.

Then why that, why the shame of herself for having let it go so easily? Why the guilt for having ignored the warnings her mind had been giving her?

Saving her from the sucking vortex of her own thoughts, came the innocence of her daughter. Rachel crawled with a wide smile toward her mother, sitting on the carpet and patting her legs to call her attention. Glad for the offered distraction, Cuddy quickly tossed serious thoughts aside, her face lightening up with the serene and pure joy her child's attention gave her as she took Rachel and held her up. Laughing already, Cuddy approached her mouth to the kid's belly blowing air on her shirt, causing the child to giggle and squirm amused and tickled.

"That's mean," Lucas pouted as he stepped in the living room. "You leave me there cooking all by myself while you girls here party!"

"Your fault," Cuddy said with a thankful smile. "You said your paella is better than mine."

"That's because I have a secret I won't share," he pointed out, sitting on the ground next to her.

Cuddy smiled and leaned on him once he was settled, sighing freely as she eventually started to realizes the situation. The weekend was ahead, long and relaxing, with her daughter and her boyfriend: no paperwork to catch up with, nothing but a taste of that family life she had craved for so long. On the carpet, Rachel was trying to build something with her colored soft cubes, helped out by Lucas who ended up building some sort of castle all around her.

"There you go princess," he announced at the kid, who happily clapped her hands amused by the fortress. Then he wrapped his arm around Cuddy and whispered in her ear, leaving a light kiss on the back of her neck. "I will take care of the queen later."

Cuddy answered his teasing smile with a mischievous one of her own, giving him the kiss his lips were demanding, then lose herself in his arms pushing out with a long sigh another dose of stress. For the biggest part it came from House, no matter what he did or didn't do she was so accustomed to worry about what he was up to, that her mind couldn't accept he could, for once, be up to nothing. Maybe she should have asked Wilson, but the oncologist was in Nevada to hold a speech at a very important conference PPTH needed him to attend, and more likely he was as clueless as she was. That meant House was on his own, but Cuddy wasn't concerned about it. She trusted Wilson, and she knew he would have never left House alone if he hadn't been confident there was nothing to worry about.

Then, why that request? Oh God, maybe House had taken advantage of the free loft to do something of his own, there were thousands of crazy things someone like him could come up with! But that scenario didn't fit the way she had seen him in her office, and even less with the way she had seen him before that. Not to mention, the deeply awkward meeting in his office. That empty look he had given her, that resignation that had never among his traits… Wilson had told her House was taking Ibuprofen, and that he seemed quite fond of the bottle recently: could that be related to his departure? Was the pain coming back too strong? Maybe it was about that, increasing pain and Wilson out of town, maybe-

"It's amazing, I have to say it," Lucas said all of sudden, caressing her arm as they both watched Rachel try to escape the manor. "A couple of days without House around, making your job a living hell, and you seem a different woman. I don't think I've ever seen you this relaxed in a while, you should give him vacation more often."

Puzzled, Cuddy had to bite her tongue, glancing up at Lucas with a quizzical look. Good man Lucas, he was smart but he still had to work out to get her sometimes, although she wasn't sure it was an entirely bad thing in their relationship. She didn't need a man who could read her like and open book, she needed someone with whom she could pretend everything was just ok. She needed peace and naïve misunderstanding: Lucas failing to see she was chewing her mind over House's vacation was 1000 times better than have him figure out the truth. That, even without being there, House still managed to haunt her thoughts. And if Lucas failed to see that, she was more than ok with it.

"It's a nice break indeed," Cuddy played along, shamelessly taking advantage and relaxing even more in his embrace. "Although I have to say he'd behaved recently."

"That's good for him," Lucas observed. "I have a feeling he can use some peace too, it's nice he'd found something other than harassing people to entertain himself."

"Yes," _like this weekend, whatever he's doing. God knows what he needed holiday for!_ "I'm starving. Any chance dinner will be ready before I digest my own stomach?"

"I hate it when you do this, tricking me with medical stuff," he teased, then gave her a quick kiss and stood up. "I'll be ready in about 15 minutes, don't worry Lisa."

Cuddy smiled at him and went back playing with Rachel, demolishing the castle around her and offering her the soft blocks to play. Lucas was on his way to the kitchen, eager to get dinner ready and impress her with his homemade paella, when passing by the hallway he heard the phone ring in her briefcase. He thought for a moment of ignoring it and pretend he hadn't heard it, but he knew if it was important another call, more urgent, would have come after that. Therefore he decided to take the risk hoping, it wasn't a big deal.

"Guess what?" He said coming back to the living room and handling her the phone. "You're needed."

Cuddy immediately shoot him a warning glare. He did like to throw those stinging and poignant arrows about how her job kept chasing her at home but sometimes, like in that case, Cuddy felt it was a free accusation on his part. Lucas smirked at her pouting face, far from apologizing, then frowned and bit at his bottom lip when he noticed how surprised and thoughtful she was, looking at the caller.

"House?" Lucas asked, recognizing the familiar expression on her face.

"Wilson," Cuddy answered, recording and at the same time ignoring Lucas's obnoxious knowing look and voice.

"Which is pretty much the same."

"Oh c'mon Lucas!" She huffed, then picked up the call. "Hi Wilson."

"_Hi Cuddy,"_ the oncologist huffed on the phone, his voice partially swallowed by the background noise made of laughs and dishes clashing. _"Do you have a minute?"_

"Of course," she answered. "You, on the other hand, are you sure this is a good moment? Sounds like you're in the middle of something."

"_Don't worry, it's just the buffet. Wait, let me look for a quiet place."_

"Ok. How's the conference going? Anything interesting?"

"_Yes actually we…sorry mister…we discussed a new therapy for lung cancer, something we can work on,"_ Cuddy listened to him, shrugging at Lucas rolling his eyes at her before going back to the kitchen. _"I'll tell you more when I'll be back, it's not-can you hear me now?"_

"Loud and clear," Cuddy said, keeping to absently playing with Rachel. "So, what's urgent? You guys finally found the cure for cancer?"

"_Still working on it,"_ he huffed making Cuddy chuckle, he did sound like it was his fault if they still haven't won the battle.

"So, what did you call for?"

"_I-"_ the oncologist sighed, alarming Cuddy's senses within the first syllable. _"I'm not even sure what this is about, maybe there's nothing actually. You know, maybe I shouldn't have called at all-"_

"James Wilson, you can't call and be so mysterious and then chicken out like this," the dean of medicine warned him, her voice soft but steady knowing she was overacting with the joke to fight back the growing anxiety "What's wrong?"

"_Nothing Cuddy…I think, at least. I-"_

"Wilson spill the guts already, ok?"

"_Ok,"_ he said, and Cuddy heard him take a deep breath. _"Have you heard of House recently? Last couple of days?"_

_Shit I knew it!_ Cuddy bit at her bottom lip, her free hand wedging around one of the blocks.

"Not since yesterday," she said then, the soothed concern slowly emerging. "He asked for some days off two days ago, he didn't tell me for what."

_Why didn't you ask? Oh, please Wilson spare me this one. I know I should have._

"_Nothing from his team? Did they try to get in touch with him?"_

"Not that I'm aware of-Wilson, would you please get to the point?"

"_There's…I was sitting next to a doctor during the afternoon session, and she got a phone call about one of her patients,"_ he paused for a moment, much to Cuddy's discomfort. _"Stomach cancer, terminal stage. She was discussing pain treatment with her assistant."_

"You think they might have misdiagnosed, and House could figure out the mistake?" She interrupted him, both intrigued and relieved. "It could be something he could work on-"

"_No, it's not. You can't misdiagnose that Cuddy."_

_I swear to God Wilson, if you don't get to the point-_

"_I wasn't paying much attention, none of my business after all. But then she said House and it caught my attention."_

"It's…a common name."

Cuddy offered, but of course she didn't believe herself either. Wilson had called her because of that from the other side of country for God's sake!

"_I know, and that's why I__asked her as soon as I got the chance. This doctor…she's from Lexington. She insisted with confidentiality, but I managed to convince her, eventually."_

"I don't doubt you did," Cuddy muttered teasingly, knowing all too well how persistent he could be. "What did you find out?"

"_Blythe is dying,"_ Wilson finally announced, the impact of the news only partially re-sized by the fact it had already been largely anticipated by their conversation. _"The doctor told me she's been sick for 7 months, and she'd been admitted a week ago because her conditions had gotten worse. I don't think House knew, we didn't get any call that had him behave strangely and he didn't look like he was thinking about something like this. I tried to call him earlier, but he didn't answer. Did he tell you anything about this?"_

"No, no he didn't." _Why should have he? We're not friends, we're nothing. _"He just said he needed some days off, I guess his mother finally called him, or maybe her sister."

"_I think you're right, he's probably down there now. I think I'd just…I'm gonna try to call him again, I must have his aunt's number somewhere,"_ Wilson paused again, a longer break this time. _"I should go there, he needs someone now. Blythe is his only family, and he's going to be pissed because she didn't tell him before."_

"You can't leave the conference, Wilson. We need you to give that speech, for hospital's accreditation," the bossy side of her immediately pointed out.

"_It's on Sunday,"_ the oncologist said. _"I could go there and then fly back here on time."_

"Wilson, you can't fly back and forth from one side of the country to the other like that. And it would give you just a bunch of hours anyway."

"_I can find a substitute, or just tell them I had an emergency with one of my patients."_

"I hate to say this Wilson, but you can't leave. The board needs you to give this speech after the one you…skipped, last time," she heard the oncologist grumble something in between his teeth, more likely some curse against House for the whole pants incident. "Funding for your department depend on this, and you know it."

"_You're right,__it's just-"_ he sighed loudly, then Cuddy heard his resignation deflate him like a balloon. _"Ok, never mind. I'll try to get in touch with him. Good night Cuddy."_

It was hard to believe for her, almost impossible to accept, but Wilson just closed the communication on her. No "I'll let you know", no "What can we do", no "I'm sure he's gonna be ok". Nothing. After all, why should have he discussed it with her? Why bother working out a plan to get to House? Stay close to him, help him in that moment, was something a friend should have done-

Thoughtful, wrecked by the news Blythe House would have soon be gone, Cuddy stared at the mute phone for a while until Rachel's small hands tried to reach for it. Gently but firmly Cuddy moved it out her reach or it, then picked up the kid and walked with her pacing the room, lost in her own thoughts. She had recently lost her father, whom she loved, yet she felt like she couldn't understand how hard it could be for House. Wilson was right, Blythe was his only family and despite whatever might have happened, he loved his mother. She was one of the few people who had always loved him, despite his many flaws, and he was about to lose her. Not only that: she was sick, and despite being the best doctor of the country there was nothing he could do.

It sucked, it really did and he was dealing with that all by himself. Why hadn't he told her? She had met his mom before, more than once: they've conspired together to have him got to his father's funeral and make up with Wilson, they weren't complete strangers yet House hadn't felt like telling her. House surely knew how to keep a point when he had one, and clearly the list of things his no longer friends weren't entitled to know was a long one.

"Hey," Lucas then poked his head in the door, "Dinner is ready-Lisa is everything ok"? He asked then, catching her thoughtful expression.

"Yes," She answered quickly, walking toward him carrying Rachel.

"What did Wilson want?"

"He met a doctor at the conference, apparently we were in med school together." _Now, why are you lying to him?_ "He wanted to know if I remembered her…I think he was actually trying to know if he could give it a try." _Seriously, why the hell are you doing this? Just tell him the truth"_

"Uhm," Lucas mumbled amused. "Someone is on hunt path out there. Watch out ladies!"

Cuddy chuckled softly. If what she had just told him about Wilson would have been true, she would have probably laughed for good. But when she sat at the table, facing the huge pot of steaming paella, she knew the bitter taste of guilt was going to ruin the yummy meal.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry to the Luddy bits, they were extremely hard to write for my hard-core Huddy heart._

_I told you there would have been drama: it's time to explore the reasons for House's "holiday" request._

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3

"So that's all you're gonna do for her? Just wait?"

"Mr. House-"

"Dr. House," he clarified, hissing hastily.

"Right, then you should be able to understand that's all we can do for her. I'm sorry Dr. House," the doctor quickly added, doing his best to calm down the conversation. "I know it's not easy to accept."

"We understand Dr. Brown, it's just-"

"No, we don't," House cut his aunt off, ignoring her attempt to cool down things and glaring at the man in front of him. "Where's the doctor assigned to my mother? I want to talk with her."

"Dr. Bright is attending a conference these days, but I can assure you she's been duly updated and she instructed to adjust the medication."

"Over the phone?" He blurted raising his voice again. "Oh well, if that's how you're taking care of her I want my mom to be moved to another hospital."

"Gregory, we can't. She's too weak for that."

"Sarah, they're just letting her die here!" He shout out, highly exasperated.

"She is dying Gregory," Sarah stated straight-forwardly, speaking firmly but gently and holding his left arm. "Nothing will change that, you have to accept it."

There was something oddly disturbing in that. He was no family man, by no mean, and he could barely remember the last time he had spent a notable amount of time with his aunt. Therefore, he was shocked by how much she looked like his mom in that moment. It was like kicking a door open on his memory, violently: the soft but confident way the woman was holding him, with her eyes and hand, brought to his mind thousands of moments like that. Moments in which his mom had tried to do what moms are supposed to do, guide their sons on the right path and try to help them face the ugly truth about life.

That you can't always win.

He couldn't take it anymore, his irrational outburst of rage had been the first and strong sign he was losing it, and in that moment the last string was cut off. There was a limit, even for him, to the amount of things he could bear, take and suffer before it was too much, and he reached it. The moment the memories started to flow, House reached the bottom. Since he'd come there he'd barely being able to hold himself together, but for the first time the reality of the situation hit him for good.

Suddenly angry, House jerked the woman's hand off him and pulled back, giving his back to her and walking away, kicking open the door for the stairs and disappearing there. Standing on her spot Sarah heard him grumble on his way out, the echo of the stairs overpowering the sound of her nephew's frustration until the door slowly closed behind him. Sighing, the woman shook her head still looking in that direction, then turned toward the hospital's dean.

"I'm sorry Dr. Brown. I'm sure he knows there's nothing much you can do at this point, it's just hard to accept for him as a doctor and son."

"Trust me Mrs. Miller, I understand," Brown reassured her with a gentle voice. "Losing our loved ones is never easy. One could think as a doctor situations like this should be easier to handle, but it's always different when it becomes personal."

"He just needs to calm down. Gregory is a good doctor…I guess he knows moving Blythe would do her no good and it would be useless. He's not trying to make things difficult for you."

"Well, I am aware of his reputation," Brown muttered fidgeting on his feet, then sighed. "Given the circumstances I'd give him the benefit of the doubt, but please remind him no matter how good he is, he's just the son here," the man clarified, extremely serious. "I'll listen to his opinion, but whether follow it or not it's up to me or Dr. Bright."

"Of course Dr. Brown. Thanks for your understatement."

The doctor nodded and left after a brief conversation, then Sarah sighed and looked in her sister's room direction. Blythe was sleeping, she'd been doing that because of the medication or simply because she was tired most of the time, which easily convinced her she should have taken care of her nephew first. Sighing, realizing no matter how much her older sister had told her about him she really had no clue on how to deal with him, Sarah made her way to the stairs wondering how far House could have gone given his limp. She didn't have to guess hard, because she found him sitting on the ground in the landing right above the one she was.

House was curled up on himself, his legs bent and his head sunk in between his shoulders, like a shy turtle stubbornly closed in her own shell, mad at the rest of the world. He didn't look like the same man who had just fiercely fought, Sarah could sense he knew there was no way for him to pull out a winning card in that game, and it made him nothing but livid. Yet, when he slowly raised his head, he took her off guard.

"He's right," he stated, painfully honest. "He's the doctor. I could insist to move her, I might even get him to do it…but he's right. You-" he said, straightening with his back and rubbing his leg with one hand "-are right. She's dying and there's nothing I can do about it."

"Nobody is asking you to like it Gregory."

"That's not the point. I can't accept it," he growled, now wedging his hand on his damaged thigh. "She's my mom and I'm a doctor. I should be allowed to at least try to do something for her," he bit at his bottom lip closing his hand in a fist, and Sarah thought he was about to slam it on his leg hurting himself. "It's not fair."

Sarah left him time to process his own words, she trusted what she remembered of her nephew and didn't try to reassure him. House was not the kind of man who needed that, not some obvious and lame consent that would have done nothing good to him. The woman looked at the man, he was 50 years old yet he looked so much older despite the thick beard and the short juvenile hair, and she felt the need to hug him. She didn't of course, but she did want to let him know she was there, so she carefully climbed the stairs, sitting next to him and taking his hand. House winced when the stranger hand touched his scar, despite the clothes in between it didn't feel right, and the sensation of those fingers touching his didn't feel anymore right. He wasn't used to physical connection, however damaged his body was his very private temple and he gave limited access to it. Aunt Sarah was family, as much as he could call people around him family: he'd never disliked her, but like any other of his siblings he'd lost track of them years before. After all that woman, sitting next to him and holding his hand, silently trying to comfort him, was just a step above of a stranger for him, and he shouldn't have allowed her to touch him, not in such an intimate way.

However, it felt good. So right it almost hurt when he squeezed back, with a desperate effort that evoked a smile on the woman's face.

"So, this is what I should do?" House asked then, anger gone in his still deeply resigned voice, absently staring at their joined hands. "Hold her hand until she's dead?"

"Let's take it one step at the time," she said with a bitter smile, turning into a reproachful grimace. "You've been here for a day and you barely spoke to her."

"That's the reason why I don't get in touch with patients. I'm not good at it."

"She's not your patient Gregory, she's your mother," Sarah, clarified drily, then stood up and started to walk down the stairs. "You better understand this soon Gregory, because when she'll be gone it won't be just a patient the one you'll lose."

The woman left, slowly she walked down the stairs and opened the door disappearing in the hallway, leaving him alone with his own hunting thoughts. How was he supposed to do that? He was the man of the family and he couldn't pull that one out. Years spent in medicine, facing rare and dangerous diseases; fighting to get the treatments he wanted because his patients needed them, no matter how crazy they could be; he was known all over the country for his skills, he was the forbidden dream of all the coward deans on the East Coast…and he couldn't handle that one on his own, his mother and the big C. Oncology had never been an option for him: he knew he could never win in that department. He craved competition and couldn't stand losing, no way he could stand losing battle after battle. Wilson would have never known how much House admired him, his friend had some steaming iron balls for doing what he did every day, knowing there was no victory.

God, he could have used his company in that moment! Not the doctor, not the oncologist but the friend, to offer him one hand and kick his ass when needed. Aunt Sarah was doing what she could: she have had indeed a good start, but she didn't have the necessary skills. Wilson was the best choice by a mile. Yet he was glad, at least for the time being, that Wilson was busy on the other side of the country. Mainly because he felt the moment he would have really needed James Wilson, he would have been on the verge of the chasm.


	4. Chapter 4

_I thought House could use some help, what do you think?_

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4

No.

At the 20th ring of the 6th call, it became clear the phone wouldn't have stopped claiming his attention just because he wanted it to. That, other than painfully reminding him to switch his phone off during the night, became outrageously obvious at the beginning of the 7th call.

He rolled on the bed and sat up, staring at the phone and rolling his eyes, a bad feeling suggesting him who could be the unknown and anxious caller, despite there were countless possibilities. Just a hint, yet strong enough to almost convince him he shouldn't have answered at all, that what he had to do was roll on his stomach and sink his head under the pillows, praying his stalker might eventually give up.

But he couldn't. He was a doctor for God's sake, and he couldn't just ignore what seemed to be a urgent call on his private number in the middle of the night. Muttering against his own sense of responsibilities, and his lack of spine, he surrendered first. Huffing out a long and loud blow of air, he tossed the sheets aside and stood up, walking to the table in the room and hastily grabbing the phone, grumbling a in the microphone.

"Hello?"

"_We need to talk."_

His jaw clenched at the man's voice, the last person on earth he expected to hear. And the last words he expected him to say although, for some reason, he didn't find the hour of the call that odd after all.

"I know I'm supposed to ask how you got my number House," Nolan asked, still puzzled and staring out of the window. "But to be honest, I'm quite scared of the answer."

From the phone came nothing but silence. If he hadn't been a shrink, House's shrink, Nolan would have guessed he had somehow managed to take him off guard. But then the silence became too long and too heavy, really too strange to be good coming from someone like House.

"_We need to talk,"_ he repeated then.

"I agree. We have a weekly appointment for that."

"_Which I'm gonna miss this week,"_ House announced. _"You'll find my message in your private email tomorrow."_

"We have an agreement House," Nolan reminded him with an absent huff, disappointed although he had to admit that moment had come later than what he had thought. "No last minute skipping."

"_Yeah,"_ House muttered. _"Next time my mother will be about to die I'll tell her to warn me with the due advance, so I can reschedule my appointments."_

On the other side of the line House held his breath, almost hoping he could get back the bitter joke, worried Nolan could easily read too much into that. Or even worse, that the therapist could take it as a joke for real, failing to see the truth of the statement. But Nolan was no fool, and soon House figured out the shrink's silence was mainly due to the need not to give him a circumstantial feedback.

"I'm sorry to hear," he finally said, then went on confident. "What does she have?"

"_Smart question,"_ House quipped, then sighed. _"Stomach cancer, she's at the final stage. I'm here with her now, but it's not like she needs me for something."_

"Let me get it straight House," Nolan said then sitting on the edge of the bed. "You called me because your mom is dying, or because you can't help her?"

Again, nothing but a silent answer from House. Nolan have had enough sessions with him to recognize the same mutism the doctor performed when he was facing a stupid, in his not so humble opinion, question. House was a man of reason and motive: knowing that, it didn't take long to Nolan to get over the doubt he hadn't called for comfort, at least not the one a normal man would seek for.

House wasn't looking for a hug. What he craved for was an explanation.

"_What's the difference?"_ House blurted, harsh, mainly because he had been figured out.

"You should tell me," he offered, he had no intention to make it easy for him. "She's not my mom, and I'm not the one who wants to save everybody."

"_I've never wanted to be a superhero, just an efficient doctor,"_ House blurted, yet it was clear in his voice he was rather pissed. _"And I'm just a human being."_

"You say it as if that's a bad thing. See House, with every other patient I'd say this kind of statement would represent the final step to recovery, but with you-" Nolan huffed, still kind of amazed by the words House had just uttered. "With you House, I feel like this is more like burst a new door open."

"_Is this an elaborate way to help me out? One of your shrink trick to drag things out of me?"_

"I can't help you out until you tell me what the problem is, House."

"_Thought you were already on the line when I said my mother is dying," _House muttered sarcastically.

"And you made it sound like it was about any other patient," Nolan stated, it was midnight and he had no intention to drag it for long just to give House the satisfaction to play his game. The man was obviously going through something big, and either he wanted to deal with it or not, they didn't have the entire night to find out. "Comfort in this situation, a consult on your mom's condition, an opinion on something you want to do to help her, things from your childhood you'd like to discuss with her," Nolan listed then with a calm voice. "I'd be ok with any of this reason for you to call, they'd all be legitimate and I'd love to face them with you. But you have to pick one. Or I'll hang up and switch off the phone."

"_You wouldn't."_

House's voice was supposed to be steady and intimidating, but it didn't come out that way. Nolan thought House's statement was mainly an attempt to convince himself, rather than him.

"I shouldn't," Nolan clarified, deeply honest and also determined to keep the point. "It would be unprofessional and wrong, but so would be playing along with you on this never-ending deflection game of yours. But that's the point, I could go back to sleep and yes, I'd probably be bugged for a while about the reason you called. But I'd end up thinking it wasn't that much of a deal after all, not enough for you to spill the guts. You, on the other hand, you're gonna be left with this unresolved issue and you'll keep chewing yourself over it on your own. The call is yours."

* * *

Ten minutes and countless of words after, most of which he wouldn't have been able to remember, House unlocked the handicap bathroom's door. Sniffing, he slid the cell phone in his pocket and heavily limped to the sink, quickly washing his face so he could blame the water for the wet traces on his face.

Using the same alibi, House took his time to study his own face. Since from when he had crossed Mayfield's threshold he hadn't felt himself, whether a good or a bad one, anymore. Not to mention, given the hallucination that lack of identity had started even before. And since then, not a single day had gone by without questioning himself about something. He had tried to take it back, his own self, by changing things: small ones like haircut and accommodation back with Wilson, and big ones like trying to step back from medicine…and accommodation back with Wilson. Sometime he had thought he made it. However, any pale conquer he might have accomplished had just gone, flushed down the toilet like the water still running in the sink, all gone with a single phone conversation.

He should have known better, he shouldn't have exposed himself to Nolan like that, knowing he wasn't strong enough to challenge him.

Sighing and closing his eyes, House looked up at the mirror again, at that stranger face that all of sudden looked more like the himself he used to know. _Damn shrink!_ House growled then finally drying off his face, thinking more likely in that moment Nolan was drifting into a pleasant and satisfied sleep, confident he had just scored a big point with one of his toughest opponent. Because as much as he felt exposed, tossed and turned upside down, he also felt less out of resources to handle the situation.

Straightening up his back, House closed his eyes and took a deep breath, loading his lungs with fresh air while his brain processed as an efficient computer all the experiences and feelings he'd gone through. The final result, appearing clear and vivid in his mind, was that he could make it. He had no clue about how, not yet, but hell could freeze before he would give up without even trying.

Pumped up by his own confidence House grabbed his cane, gripping his hand around it and fiercely limping out of the bathroom, determined to take his first step into the battle. But his plan, start the fight with the scaring but necessary need to go and see is mother, vanished like snow in the sun the moment he saw Cuddy. She was sitting on a chair in the hallway, and she seemed…she was out of place. Not her hospital, the unknown walls just poured awkwardness in a filthy osmosis, undermining her usual confidence. She looked nervous, sitting there on the edge of the chair, legs oddly crossed in a defensive posture. Hands joined on her lap, her body curled up on herself trying to become invisible: she looked like she didn't want to bother anyone and what had clearly seemed a good idea, travel all the way down there, all of sudden didn't belong to her anymore.

Yet, despite Lisa Cuddy looking like the pale weak larva of herself, all it took her to turn the tables on him and make House's world spin all around, to was sense his presence, acknowledged him and quickly stand up staring at him. She still didn't look confident, standing up had been nothing but a mere reflex and despite she was looking at him, House could tell she was clueless on what to do now that she was there. However, it didn't matter: the moment Cuddy stood up, House found himself on a unfair scale, as if she had removed a huge weight from her plate, switching it all on him and sinking him down in a deep and dark place.

He looked back at her, he couldn't have done anything different anyway, because she just drowned his attention like a magnet. And the moment he felt his breath speeding up, House knew he had to break the spell. He looked around, begging the unfamiliar place for a way out: the bathroom behind him and the stairs were poor choices, and when House sensed Cuddy was about to step toward him he panicked. His eyes darted the hallway, he quickly checked on Cuddy approaching and before it was too late he took off, running away and sneaking in his mom's room like a puppy scared by a summer storm. Trying to convince himself he wasn't chickening out but just follow the original plan.


	5. Chapter 5

5

"Can you open the blinds, please Greg?"

Despite coming out ragged and weak, Blythe's words still had the power to freeze blood in his veins, ground his feet to the floor and make all his muscles stiffen in tension.

Not a pleasant sensation, yet better than the one evoked by his silent face off with Cuddy the night before. He had ran away from that, hiding in is mom's room until the morning after.

Silent, taking his time to adjust to the idea his luck had ran out and he had to face his demons, House hooked the cane on the closet and seized the blinds with both hands, spreading them open. The disturbing light of the morning sun violently assaulted his eyes, already adjusted to the darkness, then he closed them and took a deep breath gathering his strength.

"There's no need to pretend son," Blythe's voice warned him softly, sensing the tension in his movements. "You're allowed not to be strong."

"If anything," House muttered with a sarcastic voice, then slowly turned around.

He knew already she looked like crap, he'd spent hours watching her sleep, and he knew all too well how she was. Tired, her face graved by the signs of the mortal path her body had taken, weak beyond limits. He had studied everything while watching her, as a doctor knowing how painful was for her to be awake. His mom, the only woman who had ever really loved him despite himself, his dying mom was smiling sweetly at him from her death's bed, as if things weren't as bad.

"I'm sorry Gregory," she said again when their eyes finally met.

"You don't have to be sorry because you're dying mom," House answered gulping down a lump of sadness.

"I know. I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance."

Mom, always figuring him out! He was pissed she knew, that she knew he was cursing himself because, despite being a great doctor, he couldn't help her. Still, a strange smile poked on his lips at her words. Like a moth attracted by a shining flame House moved, he took his cane back and stepped toward the bed, dragging a chair close. Then, despite his own skepticism, he slowly bent forward leaving a shy kiss on his mom's cheek, before pulling back and taking her hand. It didn't feel like Aunt Sarah holding his, but he prayed it could work for his mother.

"How are you feeling?" he managed to ask then, doing his best not to sound desperate.

"You're asking as son, or as a doctor?" House didn't answer, Blythe seemed to catch he honestly had no answer anyway and smiled. "I'm fine Gregory, I'm just tired."

"You're dying mom," he stated, words slipping out of his mouth before he could stop them. "You can't be fine."

"My son is here," she explained, ravenously raising her hand to caress his cheek. "I couldn't ask for more."

Feeling tears forming in his eyes, House desperately tried to fight them back, wondering why he couldn't let himself cry not even in front of his dying mother, then covered her hand with his. Seizing it in his ones, House just stared at her for a while, her smiling face telling him there was nothing to worry about, then shook his head.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He whined, feeling like the begging child his father never let him be. "I could have helped."

"No Gregory, you couldn't have. That's why I didn't tell you."

"I could have done something," he insisted. "Medication to ease the pain, I could have-"

"You're a good doctor Gregory, I know you are," she cut him gently but firmly. "It wouldn't have changed the final result anyway, and it would have left you nothing but regret."

"And how do you think I feel now?"

"You're sad son," she observed, eluding his provocation. "You don't understand it, you don't like it...but it's good to be just sad."

"I don't want to be sad mom, I want to do something."

"Then," Blythe gently offered, squeezing her son's hand as she went on. "Why don't you tell me what will happen now?"

"Mom, don't," House begged with a cracking voice, shaking his head with a single tears from his eye. "Please don't ask me this."

"It's my last journey Gregory," she pointed out with an absent shrug. "I'd like to be ready for it."

House was still shaking his head, apparently too puzzled and shocked to believe her. How could she ask him to do that? How could she really want to be told about the hell she was about to face? What good could come out of that for her, let alone for himself? Why add that grief to the other, pain piled up on pain?

Yet, words came. He heard himself tracing a picture of her situation, before his own voice started to list what she was about to go through. Pain, of course, then vomit and nausea, probably desiring someone could just end her misery soon. He kept nothing out, things he'd never warned his patients about, details even oncologists in their mercy forget to tell, his mind already projecting images of his mom walking through that desert as his words gave shape to it.

Feeling nothing but lost when she thanked him for it in the end.

The only reason he managed not to cry, was the certainty she didn't want him to. He had been forced to deal with something he feared, a one on one confrontation with the ugly truth. If he hadn't known for sure Blythe knew nothing about Nolan and his staying at Mayfield, House should have really considered the possibility they've somehow sett him up, especially when the same promise he had left his shrink with came up to his mouth again.

"I'm gonna be here mom," he said, blunt and honest as he had rarely be.

"Gregory honey," Blythe whispered with a smile, stroking her son's face with pure love and admiration. "I had no doubt about that."

Blythe House indeed loved her son, she knew she have had a crappy way to show him and they weren't exactly in a close relationship, but she loved him to death. For his skills, for his ability to gather strength when nobody believed in him anymore, and also, as sad as it might sound, for being always so watchful and guarded with his emotions. To the point he hid them: all the ones their brief conversation had brought to the surface quickly buried under a thick layer of embarrassment, when a shy knock on the door announced someone was about to join the party. With a bitter smile Blythe freed his hand, already satisfied she had gotten to see a glimpse of the nice and complex humanity her son warded.

"Hey, you're up," Sarah cheered, too enthusiast according to House's taste, Then she looked in his direction and her face lightened up. "And you have company, I see."

"I just-"

"He's been here all night," Blythe announced with a hint of satisfaction, shrugging at House when he looked at her, clearly disappointed for what he considered a betrayal. "You woke me up with your snoring."

Sarah laughed at her sister's addition, giving House a warning he should have found a way to break the women's complicity before it was too late. He could have tried to fight them, but they were a well-oiled machine together, therefore he opted for a dignified and logic way out.

"I'm starving," he huffed in an absent voice, as if he'd just been hit by the epiphany. "And I'm sure I also need to shower, but you two are just too polite to tell me."

Both Blythe and Sarah looked at each other with a hinted rolling movement of their eyes, but thought there was nothing wrong in play along with him.

"You've been here for so long," Sarah granted him, and Blythe heard her son sigh in relief. "You came here straight, I bet you could use some rest."

"Yeah, and I better stay away from that doctor Brown for a while," House grumbled, this time with no need to fake at all, then he stood up.

"Here," Sarah said then while fumbling with her purse. "I'll give you the keys to my place, you can stay with me until-"

"Thanks Sarah, but I was thinking to stay at mom's," he cut her off, before she and Blythe could realize the conclusion of her sentence was potentially dangerous.

"On your own?" Blythe asked, the mom inside her unable to hide her concern.

"I'm a grown up boy mom," he reassured her with a smirk, leaning down on her for a goodbye kiss. "I'll be fine in my old room, and I want to be sure everything is ok there."

"Ok Gregory, but tell me if you need anything," Sarah said, knowing insisting would have been useless, yet she couldn't help but add. "But I'll stop by to bring some of my macaroni cheese, you loved them if I remember."

"Deal," House nodded fiercely, the simple mention of food actually evoking a loud growl from his stomach. "I'll be back in a couple of hours mom, ok?"

Blythe just nodded and didn't say anything. She might have just woke up but House could tell she was feeling weak already, one more reason for him to take off. He had told her he would have been there for her and he meant it, but he had to take it one step at the time.

"Oh Gregory, did you manage to see your friend?"

Sarah's question grounded him to his spot, one thing worse than Cuddy being there was his aunt and mother to know. How dared she? Being there was already a big mistake, to get in touch with his family and involved in the situation was by no mean something he could allow. Clenching his jaw and seizing the cane he turned around, slowly to give himself time to elaborate his own version, his face naively questioning the woman who just shrugged.

"One of the nurse told someone got here last night, asking for Blythe and you," puzzled, sensing she might have said something she shouldn't have, Sarah looked over at her sister who shook her head, clueless, then she went back to House. "Who-"

"Nobody," House cut her off with a hiss he tried to camouflage, quickly adding. "I saw nobody last night, must have been a mistake."

Then he left the room, confident all he had just said was nothing but true.


	6. Chapter 6

_Hope this will keep you interested_

* * *

6

"_Hei, it's me."_

"Oh finally! So good to hear you."

"_Yeah, I tried to call the sooner I could. How is it going there?"_

"Hum, fine,"

"_This doesn't sound like fine to me."_

"It's just…you were right. He's not exactly thrilled about this."

"_No surprises, I guess. Is he being hard on you?"_

"No, no it's not this. You know him…he'd rather give you the silent medicine. He's been on his own mainly, or with her from what I've seen so far."

"_I'm so sorry I got you into this, I should have known better."_

"It's not your fault. But you know I should have taken care of this in the meantime."

"_I guess it's not easy for you either."_

"To be honest, I've seen worst in my years of practice."

"_I don't doubt that. And how is she?"_

"Hanging in there. Sad to say there's really nothing much we can do."

"_He could help with it, you know."_

"He's trying, really. He's not just used to it, not this way."

"_I don't think I see the difference with any other day. It's not an unknown situation for him after all."_

"Well, he's not alone usually. You're always there for him."

"_You know sometimes…I feel like it's not enough, just like now. And since I'm not there, I guess we'll never really know."_

"I'm sure nobody would know how to handle him better than you."

"_Now you're flattering me."_

"Why should I? It's not like you're my boss, or something."

"_That was a nice one. I'll let you go now, I'm sure you're busy. I'll call back later, but please call me of something changes ok?"_

"I will. Take care and don't worry, I can handle it here. Not as good as you, but I can."

"_I'm sure you can. Thanks for the help. Bye."_

Back in Princeton, Marina listened to the last words of Dr. Cuddy and then hung up the phone. Rachel giggled in her arms, then tried to stretch them and reach out for Lucas sitting on the couch. He looked up at the woman and the girl with a steady face, then sighed and stood up walking there and picking up the kid, scooping her in his arms under the watchful eye of the baby sitter.

Yes, she could handle it, although she wasn't sure for how long.

Just the time to end the conversation, just a second to recover from the cocktail of feelings the exchange had brought to the surface, then the cell phone rang again. A quickly look to the caller and a suffered sigh escaped her mouth, and soon the apparel was back on her ear.

"Cuddy," she answered out of habit.

"_Hei, it's me,"_ Wilson announced himself. _"I've been trying to call House but his phone was off. Any news?"_

"Not many, for me at least," She confessed, biting at her bottom lip as she added. "I didn't manage to talk to him yet, and of course doctors here won't tell me about Blythe's conditions."

"_I know the feeling. I've been trying to get information from Dr. Bright, but either she thinks I'm a maniac, or that I'm hitting on her."_

Cuddy allowed herself a soft chuckle and enjoyed the silly moment for a while, closing her eyes and taking a sip of tea. She was sitting on her own in the Capital Hospital's cafeteria, having a breakfast she was consuming out of the biological need more than hunger. It was hard to tell what was worst: not being where she was supposed to, at home with her daughter and boyfriend, or being where she was clearly unwanted. She had left on Friday evening, not long after Wilson's call. Her dismissing act hadn't lasted long, and when the words "House" and "need" had been uttered she had seen annoyance on Lucas's face. Good thing once she had told him everything, of House's mother and Wilson being out of reach, Lucas had shown that understandment she expected from him.

Of course, he hadn't been exactly thrilled to see her go and leave such in a hurry, instructing him to call Marina and with the promise she would have come home as soon as Wilson would have stepped in. On the other hand, she couldn't say she expected him to happy about it. If anything, Cuddy felt reassured and flattered Lucas, her boyfriend, didn't like being dumped for the weekend like that. She needed it, that kind of attention made her feel wanted and needed in a good way, any woman would have like that.

Yet, the lonely night drive and the short…oh God, how to name it, the moment she had seen House the night before? Meeting? Conversation? They might haven't uttered any words, but it didn't mean they haven't said anything to each other. Encounter, of the third kind, Cuddy thought. After all, haven't they been like aliens to each other in the previous days? Cuddy have had a lot of time to think, way too much actually: between getting there and wait, then at the hotel on her own the whole night, the seed of doubt had been planted and properly watered.

She shouldn't have been there, Lucas might have not said it, but he had sure thought it. And then, facing her unfinished breakfast, for the first time Cuddy asked herself if she had really done the right thing.

_Someone had to do something, _she told herself then, her hand wedging on the phone. _Maybe I shouldn't be here, but House should not be on his own now._

"_Cuddy."_

_He's not in fact, his aunt is here._

"_Hei Cuddy."_

_And even if he was alone, maybe it's good for him. He had to learn how to handle this things on his own._

"_Cuddy, are you still there?"_

"Yes, sorry Wilson, I was just…I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"_I said my speech is today at 5pm, I should be able to catch a flight around 8."_

"Don't worry Wilson, and take your time," Cuddy reassured him. "I can stay here until Monday anyway."

"_I know, I'd just like to be there as soon as I can," _the oncologist explained, a strange note in his voice Cuddy could catch but not name._ "You have other people to take care of."_

There it was, that bitter note again, and this time Cuddy had no struggle putting a label on it. He knew, House must have told him about their meeting in his office. After all that, wasn't that the kind of thing one would share with his friends?

"Wilson-" Cuddy tried to explain then, a weak start the oncologist quickly stopped.

"_I just…don't think you should be there Cuddy,"_ he said, the discomfort for being so brutally honest evident in his voice, but Cuddy could tell he felt like he had to say it. _"Being on his own might not be good for him, but your presence might not help him either."_

,Cuddy knew Wilson very well, he had been House's best friend for a long time but he was also her best friend, and tell her that cost him a lot. Especially because he meant it, and knowing, him his words more likely were hiding a friendly warning for her too.

"I'm just keeping an eye on the situation," she tried to defend herself then, and to sound confident at the time. "It's not like he's up for a chitchat anyway."

The silence that followed puzzled her. Cuddy expected the gentle and caring Wilson to take her bait and come up with something encouraging, lifting her spirit, but nothing came. Because she was wrong: she shouldn't have been there, and despite the ones she cared about the most, House and Wilson, had made it clear in their own peculiar ways, she'd rather follow her own instinct.

Putting her in a situation where she had no excuses, whatever the case.

"I'll try to know something and I'll call you back," Cuddy said then, speaking as if she was answering something Wilson had asked. "Let me know when you'll be about to leave."

"_Don't get me wrong Cuddy,"_ Wilson urged to say, but determined to keep the point at the same time.

"I know Wilson, don't worry," she tried to sound dismissive, as if his words and behave hadn't hurt. "I'm just the stunt double here, warming up the spot for the pro to come in."

"_I'll try again with Dr. Bright,"_ Wilson said, then to Cuddy's' relief he added. _"If I'll have to invite her out I'll charge the bill on the hospital's expense account."_

"As long as you don't put the condoms in it too," she warned him mockingly, easing the tension between them and allowing a cordiale goodbye.

But once the phone was mute again, all she had left was an unfinished breakfast and a bugging feeling of being out of place.


	7. Chapter 7

7

To his own surprise, he had slept. Not much, at least deep enough to get some rest and compose himself again.

Truth was, once home all by himself, past and present had melted together, mixing his soul like fruits in a blender. He hated that place because of what it represented, but somehow it was the closest thing to a safe one he could count on. Aunt Sarah's offer had been genuine and very kind, but he desperately needed some alone time, and once at home he hadn't hesitated making himself comfortable.

Some hours of much needed rest and a plunder at her mom's fridge, along with a long hot shower had made him feel human again, and he had driven back to the hospital. Shocked by how familiar the place already was, especially since he couldn't say he was happy to be there, House stopped at the cafeteria for a coffee and a sandwich, a late breakfast and early lunch he swallowed in two bites during the short trip in the elevator. Despite having being alone for hours, something he normally liked, House hadn't allowed himself to dig much into it. It was his mom, not his patient, there was no medical mystery to solve for him and his mind had to stay busy with something else, yet nothing came to his rescue. He was drained out, the double round with Nolan and his mom had exhausted him and for better or for worst, he was starting to accept there was really nothing he could have done.

Yawning and taking a long sip of his coffee, silently praying his mom could look a little better, House stepped out of the elevator and made his limping way to Blythe's room. On his way there, he had to leave the pass to a deambulating grannie, and once she had gone there were no more obstacles for him to see Cuddy. She looked less unease than the night before, although she seemed glued to the very same chair, with her legs more naturally bent and holding a book on her lap.

Far from wanting to know why she was there, again, House did hope unlike some hours before she could fail to sense he was there. The crowded hallway provided him with a nice cover, not surprisingly he found himself staring at her, taking advantage of other people around, savoring the view. Part of him wanted to go there and face her, ask her why she was wasting her time, but his feet weren't as brave as his mind.

House was about to leave his spot and go to see his mom, when his cell phone rang. Muttering a curse in between his teeth, he quickly hid behind a vending machine and took the phone out. Foreman was taken aback by his growled answer, in House's mind the fact his fellows didn't know the reason of his departure didn't justify them, especially if the call was about a poor update on the patient he had left them in charge of. Not hiding his annoyance House paid attention to the case, which sounded more and more like sarcoidosis to him, and he pushed them in that direction. In any other moment he would have kept jerking them around, teased to get the team work their asses out, but he had no time and will to play and it was in his best interest to get rid of that one patient and hope nothing else would come bothering him.

Once he had instructed the team House flipped the phone closed, and when he turned around he found Cuddy standing in front of him, dangerously close. She wasn't smiling, she knew she shouldn't have pushed that far and frankly, no matter how affected by her presence he might have been, Cuddy wasn't feeling at her best either. If anything, she felt a harmless pray backed up against a wall. She was exposed as much as he was, feeling weak and clueless on what to do, the only certainty been she knew she should have taken plain advantage of the moment and tell him something, anything, and try at least-

_Damn, how can he move so fast!_ It was all she could do, think that when House dribbled her, passing by her with a gentle and fluid movement, barely brushing her shoulder on his way. Cuddy had never felt like that, she suddenly became aware of what feeling like a ghost should mean, when House just bluntly ignored her despite their eyes have locked for a moment. He passed by over her, his limp heavy but his back straight up, and he walked away under Cuddy's eyes, meeting up with a woman who, judging by the look, must have been Blythe's sister.

"Good morning Gregory," the woman greeted him, leaving on his cheek a light kiss Cuddy was surprised he didn't try to avoid. "You could have slept a little more."

"It's ok Sarah," he said dismissively.

"You've been away only for a few of hours, are you sure you got some rest?"

"I figured when my body wakes up it means I've had enough," he delivered quietly, stealing his aunt a smile, then he added. "How is she?"

"It's a good day," she said, House quickly scanned her face but found no trace of lie. "She ate her lunch, she hadn't touched much food so far and she's watching TV now."

"Ugh!" House guttered shaking his head with a grin, stepping toward his mom's room. "Watching TV? If it's something either than a documentary then it's a bad day, I found dust on TV and remote."

"She's never been much into TV, she'd been spending a lot of time reading recently."

_I bet she did!_ House thought as they walked down the hallway, thinking about the huge amount of brand new books he had found at home. _He never let her, he thought reading was a waste of time._ The thought stroke him as they kept waking, not that one itself but the fact for the first time his father had come up to his mind, surprised by how quickly the man entered one way and exited the other one. However, after all, it wasn't that shocking: the man had passed away more than a year before, and he had nothing to do with what was going on with his mom. Thankfully, he wasn't part of the picture anymore.

He had processed the man's departure in his own way, trying to ignore it mainly, but then the curiosity about his biological father had finally kicked in, pushing him to dig. Not that it had worked out well, he had randomly looked for some sort of connection with a man he had never met by exploring the one thing he knew would have kept them apart, and he had been ashamed of other people finding out. That was the part of Nolan's assistance he hated the most, assignments that forced him to bring things up to the surface. Mainly because with the omnipresent and tireless Wilson around, always there with his caring radar constantly at work, that exposed him beyond his comfort zone.

"Why don't you go have something to eat?" House said then all of sudden, speaking casually as if it was just a random thought and not a planned strategy. "You might use a break you know, old ladies shouldn't hang out for long."

"Gregory," Sarah shushed him. "If you want to be alone with your mom just say it, ok?" She teased then, squeezing his hand with a smile, then became threatening. "Especially if you have to come up with crappy excuses like this."

"Mom should have told you about my passion for games," he muttered then, trying to excuse himself.

"Of course she did," Sarah reassured him stepping away. "And she also warned me not to play along with you."

House bit at his bottom lip chewing his own amused smile, his aunt smiled back while walking away and she turned around giving her back to him. But then she did a 180° spin to face him again. Puzzled, House watched her come close again, a questioning expression all over her face transferring on him as she came even closer to speak to him in a low voice.

"That woman down there, near the vending machine," House didn't need to look to know she was talking about Cuddy, but couldn't help to gulp down nervously. "Is she staring at us?"

"Yeah," he muttered, fishing in his mind for a dismissing answer. "I think she's one of those vultures lawyer, grounding hospital to get money out of malpractice causes."

"Oh my God!" Sarah gasped, clearly outraged. "Do they really do this?"

"It's a plague," House said with a serious and grave voice, adding a small nod to give the whole act a more dramatic tone, then added warningly. "They go for cancer's patient mostly. Just ignore her, she'll stop chasing eventually."

"Don't you think we should tell security?"

Sarah's question was a serious one, House suspected she might be actually somewhat thrilled by the idea, feeling like some kind of Jessica Fletcher. He was indeed tempted by the idea himself, but he had not time to waste on Cuddy. As much as the idea of Cuddy dragged out of the hospital by security teased him, more likely she would have had no problem ruling the guards the same way she did with PPTH's ones. He then reassured his aunt, thinking no matter how much her sister might have warned her about him, there were too many tricks in his books for her to know.

Blythe did look better, as good as she could according to House's opinion. She was sitting on the bed with her back comfortably resting on the pillows, glasses on and eyes focused on the TV hang up on the wall, and House was relieved to see she was indeed watching some reportage about whales. The woman was so immerged into it, that House almost thought he shouldn't have bothered her. But he couldn't leave her alone, he couldn't let himself make the very same mistake other people hadn't done with him, the shadow of an error he had dragged along long enough.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, then went straight to his mom's bed. Blythe saw him and smiled so wide House wondered how could he be such a ray of sunshine in her life, however smiled back and pulled a chair close to the bed. The woman opened her mouth ready to grant him with a gentle good morning, and more likely some useless questions about how he was doing, but when she looked carefully at him Blythe found a weird and serious mask on his face.

"Gregory, son," she asked, something in his face quickly telling her whatever was up with him it had nothing to do with her condition. "What's wrong?"

She saw him gulp down and take a sharp breath in, like he was trying to prevent some uncontrolled reaction to come out, which pretty much scared the hell out of her. Then he recovered, he blinked once and when looked at her again he was almost smiling, yet with a sad background light in his eyes.

"I'm sorry mom," he whispered painfully, trying to ease the moment by taking her skinny hand and stroking it gently. "I think I'm about to ruin your good day."

Blythe frowned at his words and his suffered smile, not sure she understood what he was talking about, However, everything became painfully clear when he spoke again, and opened her the doors of Mayfield.


	8. Chapter 8

8

_How can he live like this? Always tense, always en-guard, even when he sleeps? My boy,_ Blythe thought with a smile, filling her tired and sick eyes with the view of her son sleeping on the armchair. _My poor son, why can't he get some peace too?_

As to answer her silent question, with a clear and definite no, came the sound of the cell phone from his pocket. She wished she had enough strength to do something, stand up or at least stretch her arm and reach out for him to wake him up gently. But she couldn't, and the phone dragged him out of sleep. House woke up all of sudden, looking around puzzled and needing some time to bring his brain to the right gear. The cell phone was still ringing as their eyes met, House knew his mouth was open and that he must look dumb, with droll drying in the corner of his mouth. Then he shook himself and stood up, taking the phone to answer.

Blythe observed him, amazed by how quickly he switched from being harmlessly asleep to powerfully master the science that fascinated him, working with his team and instructing them with that firm decision he had completely lost while he had told her about what he had been through in the last year. Drug abuse and excruciating pain; the hallucination; Mayfield and the therapy; the grief of detoxing; the sorrow of recovery. No, as he paced her hospital room up and down, more likely saving the life of someone miles away from there, he didn't look like a man who had been to hell and back. Blythe wondered if it had been like that all time long, if he had kept all those things for himself failing to share the burden with anybody.

Then he flipped the phone close, abruptly as it had started the conversation was over, and House stood at the end of her bed, facing her but looking God knew where.

"Any chance," he said then in a low voice, barely whispering. "I just dreamed it all?" He asked, absently waving one hand in the direction of the spot he had fallen asleep in, then he straightened up and looked at her tilting his head with a small twinkle in his eye. "Or maybe I can convince you just dreamed it."

"Gregory," Blythe admonished him softly. "I understand why you wouldn't want me to know, but now that is out…what's the point in taking it back?"

House shrugged and enlarged his arms, his mouth open to greet her with the obvious reason why he should regret having spilled the guts. Somehow, whatever he was about to say, apparently didn't seem that smart anymore because he shut it closed. Yeah, after all…what would have changed? Not like his mom would have gone out there spreading the news. More likely the details of his Mayfield experience would have gone with her, probably sooner that what he was ready to admit.

"If anything," she added then with a sad voice. "I can't believe you didn't tell me before."

"I guess that makes us even then," he grumbled, not willing to let his mom forget they were even, if it came down to unsaid things. "Let's just…don't let this be the one thing we'll remember of each other when the time comes."

"Deal," Blythe whispered with a weak voice, gaining energy again when her son stepped closer to hold her hand. "You're going to be fine without me Gregory, you've always had anyway."

"Doesn't mean I like it."

"How did that song you used to listen to say?" She asked then absently, words slipping away as her whole being started to drift into a tired sleep. "You can't get-"

"You can't always get what you want," House said in a whisper, leaning down on her and carefully adjusting the pillows so she could lay down comfortably for her rest, then kissed her forehead and soughed gently while pulling back. "But you might get what you need."

Maybe his mother didn't need to sleep, but her body did or more likely simply couldn't help it. As for House himself, he was simply clueless on what his needs might have been,

But he knew for sure he wasn't going to get what he wanted.

Reading, talking on the phone, looking around curiously. The dark haired woman had done nothing but that in the last couple of hours.

Sarah was not familiar with lawyers, but she didn't look like one. At least, not like one waiting for someone to die and sink her claws in the still warm body. She had been watching her since from when she had noticed her, House had dismissed it but her presence had been a bugging constant, especially since she seemed to be after not just a random patient, but her sister in particular.

Then, when she had been about to forget her nephew's advice, Dr. Brown had anticipated her stepping next to the woman. At first, Sarah had thought he would have done what she'd like to do: unmask the hunter and get rid of her. However, she had been nothing but surprised when, instead, they've started to talk as they've known each other for a long time. The woman watched the scene, intrigued by how after the first shy exchange Dr. Brown seemed to show some sort of reverence to the woman. Too much to be just about an excessive gentleman act.

At that moment, she hadn't been able to resist. Sarah observed the whole conversation from a safe distance, wondering how could such a gentle and smiling woman be the harpy House had suggested, and once Brown left she made sure to stop him as soon as they were out of sight. Needless to say, when he told her the woman was Lisa Cuddy, the dean of medicine of her nephew's hospital, Sarah was nothing but puzzled.

And relived, however that second feeling didn't last long as Brown left, and Sarah realized Cuddy was now looking in her direction. House had lied about that woman, and now the reason why he might have done it was a complete mystery to her. However, judging by the way the female doctor was looking at her in that moment, she did know why.

Which made that long distance staring contest too much for her to bear, since she suddenly feared Cuddy might have taken advantage of House's absence to track her down. Something prevented the doctor from making that move: whatever the reason House had ignored her thus far, Cuddy proved to be aware of it despite she couldn't understand it. Come to her would have been easy, Sarah was clueless and not equipped at all to face whatever confrontation might come. But after some moments of hesitation, Cuddy finally decided to spare her the thrill and sat back down.

The lack of initiative on Cuddy's part left Sarah intrigued, for all she knew the woman was the only one of House's friends showing up somehow, yet he seemed more than determined not deal with her. _None of my business,_ Sarah thought then. After all, House was old enough to take care of himself the way he felt, and she put the thought aside anyway when he stepped out of Blythe's room. Sarah quickly caught up with him in the hallway, in front of her sister's room, and she looked inside to check on Blythe.

"Gregory, is everything ok?"

"Yes, she's just-" he huffed and shook his head, shrugging powerless, and didn't end the sentence since it was obviously useless.

"Let's have a coffee, ok?" Sarah offered, gently holding his shoulder. "You look like someone who could use a good one."

"A good one?" He repeated mockingly. "Then we might need to go somewhere else."

"Yeah," the woman muttered in a low voice as they walked down the hallway heading to the elevators. "Too bad they don't sell alcohol here-what?" She asked then, careless, shrugging at her nephew's appalled reaction. "You look like someone who might use a drink too."

Amused despite everything, House smiled and squeezed her shoulder affectionally, then she felt his hand suddenly wedge and looked up, following the direction of his eyes fixed on Cuddy at the end of the hallway. His gaze was empty, yet his clenched jaw spoke loud about his feelings. No, it wasn't hate or rage: whatever it was, it was far more complex than that. There was hurt indeed, regret for something maybe, and a glimpse of bold desire to close the distance and break the silence. Which told Sarah whatever grudges he was holding with that woman it wasn't easy at all, for none of them.

If she'd known him better, Sarah would have known that was the moment to stop and pretend she hadn't see it. But she didn't know House well enough. Because if she's had, she'd never dared to push that button.

"It's nice," Sarah said all of sudden as they slowly approached the line of chairs were Cuddy was sitting, "To have a friend close in moment like this."

She glanced up at House, his head up and stubbornly straight to ignore Cuddy even better as they passed by her, despite the fact she was shyly and hopefully trying to call his attention. Sarah expected him to explode, yell at her it was none of her business, but his fierce silence told her he was at least thankful his aunt was intentionally ignoring his previous lie. Yet, it was clear he had something to say no matter what.

"She's not a friend," House stated, Sarah tried to scan his few words for hate but didn't find any, and she thought maybe the silent and passive strategy of Cuddy was getting at him. "She's my boss."

"Well…it's nice of her to find time to-"

"No, it's not," he cut her off drily, pushing the button to call the elevator, not looking at his aunt. "She has a hospital to run, a daughter and a boyfriend waiting for her at home…they might have something to say about all the time she's wasting here."

"Maybe she's not wasting it-"

The elevator arrived, but House didn't step in and instead stared at his aunt, almost shocked she actually suggested what he thought she had: that he was the one wasting Cuddy's time there. But whatever answer he might have been about to give her it passed by, vanishing on his mouth as he looked beyond Sarah's shoulder, his expert doctor's eyes catching the sudden hurry in the way a nurse stepped inside his mom's room. His all senses tickling, House stepped forward gently pushing his aunt aside to clear way and view, the corner of his eyes catching Cuddy standing up too at the nurse movements, and he didn't need to hear any sound to know the alarm had been launched.


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks for the kind reviews, it's nice to see following despite the tough situation_

* * *

9

"It's a dead end."

"It's a clever idea."

"No, it's a useless idea."

"It can actually work."

"Even if it would, is it really necessary?"

"Could buy some time."

"To do what?"

"It's not up to us."

"Now, that's a coward thing to say."

"It's not coward. It's reasonable."

"Depends on the point of view."

"No, it doesn't. It's either doing something useless to gain the shadow of an advantage, or do nothing and accept things the way they are."

"Then what should he do? Just wait?"

"You really think getting part of himself ripped out would be better than wait?"

"If that's what he wants-"

"That's not how it works."

"No, actually it's how he does."

"One reason more not to do this."

"What? When he has a good idea it's cool, but not anymore if it's about himself?"

"His ideas are usually going somewhere-"

"_Enough!"_

House's voice echoed loud and clear from the speaker at the center of the table in the conference room, the annoyance in it coming mostly from the fact somehow the conversation had switched to judging his methods instead of valuing his idea. Silenced, Taub, Chase, Foreman and 13 all quiet down looking at the phone, ceasing the confused chase of voices House had lost himself in, barely capable to retrace the conversation and determine who was with him and who was not.

Not that it mattered to him, anyway.

"_No need to be so passionate about this, it's not like I called to ask your opinion anyway,"_ House clarified, then quickly added. _"And don't roll your eyes at me, I just call to get that study faxed to me. I sure didn't want you to sneak your nose in my business."_

The four doctors this time didn't roll their eyes, but kept them busy anyway, exchanging a dense network of glances. Foreman, more than anybody. The neurologist wasn't entirely sure the way they found out about House's mother had been a mere a coincidence, let alone no matter how much their boss loved to mock and demean them he sure didn't think they might be so dense not to have their curiosity tickled. When House had called asking to send him a study about partial kidney's transplant from living donor, questions had been inevitable. House's reticence and vague answer had increased the doubt he might have been up to something, wherever he was, and the excessive aggression soon following had eventually convinced Foreman it must have been personal. A quick double check on Wilson and Cuddy had done the rest, and with House's requested study still on his desk, they've all jumped in, discussing why and if House should have donate part of his kidney to his mom.

"House, kidney's failure it's a common consequences in this situation," Foreman pointed out, deaf to his boss deflection's attempt.

"_I know genius, if I'd wanted an oncology lesson I would have called Wilson."_

"You wouldn't," Taub unwarily observed. "He'd be telling you the same and you wouldn't want to hear him stating the obvious."

"_You're all so much smarter when I'm not around, how's that?"_

"A transplant wouldn't save her House, which you know. You'd just buy her some more days-"

"This isn't about prolonging her life," 13 jumped in, cutting Foreman off and talking straight to him. Then looked at the phone biting her tongue not to add anything more, confident her boss wouldn't have liked for her to unmask him like that.

"_As I said,"_ House announced from the phone. _"You're all smarter when I'm not there,"_ Foreman frowned and glanced at 13, who was smiling bitterly at the phone. _"Fax me the paper."_

With that said, House closed the conversation, leaving his team with no other choice than start a long and boring transmission.

* * *

Sunlight invaded the room, it was a bit disturbing but Sarah couldn't stand up and close the blinds, sinking her sister in the darkness. They were coming fast enough already, there was no need to speed up the process. And the woman was confident stay at Blythe's side in that moment was the best thing she could do. She took her sister's hand while whipping sweat away from her forehead, women's eyes locking and sharing the pain the older one was feeling and trying to control with short and ragged breaths.

That was the only sound in the room, words were out of question. The deep silence in there, was a strong and dissonant opposition with the battle going on not far. In the hallway, barricaded behind discarded meal's carts, House and Dr. Brown were engaged in a heated conversation, the only kind of interaction they seemed capable of.

"Dr. House, would you please take the voice down?"

All Dr. Brown's request had in answer was a bunch of paper slammed on his chest by House, standing in front of him and clearly doing whatever he could to intimidate the local dean.

"You do me a favor," he hissed. "Read this one and stop being an obnoxious-"

"I don't need to read this study Dr. House, I know it all too well. That's why I'm telling you won't convince me with this blunt tool," Brown cut him off confident, taking the papers House was "offering" and trashing them in the closest bin in one single movement. "We're not discussing the reliability of the study, the point here is how can it be useful for your mother."

"Are you jerking me around, or you're just stupid?" House asked straightaway, widening his eyes in stupor. "Her kidney's are failing, I can give her one of mine-"

"For what? Dr. House, we both know this would give no real advantage," Brown insisted, determined to defend his spot by all means.

"No, you seem so sure about it. You're a doctor, you're supposed to work to make people better," an evil smile came up to House's lips and he snorted, loud and mockingly as he shook his head, adding with a teasing voice. "Must be a bug at the dean of medicine's factory, you all forget how to practice once they give you a desk."

"Is this supposed to be an insult?" Brown provoked him, clearly untouched by his attack. "Here's the thing Dr. House, you don't know me enough therefore whatever judgment you might give is random. On the other hand, I've heard enough about you to know your attack comes from the fact you're running out of elements to convince me," the dean paused and looked at House, then stepped a little closer seeing the hesitation in the man's eyes. "Your mother is dying. Tumor had spread and compromised her kidneys, we knew it would have happened and you too, being a doctor. Now we are at it, the end is near and nothing, no bold medical procedure can stop it. And you know it. And I really don't get why I should let you waste the few time left putting her through surgery-"

"It's not wasted time! I could give her-"

"A week? Two? Dr. House, I've been told you're smart but I really have to wonder if you haven't been overestimated all these years-"

"No, he hasn't."

The female and soft voice of Lisa Cuddy gently broke the altered confrontation between the two men. Brown looked in her direction, feeling the sudden need to straighten up and sensing in the woman a powerful presence, while House immediately clenched his jaw wondering how could she dare to even speak, especially when she looked like a wet puppy lost in a storm. Cuddy looked at him, she didn't need to see his face to know she had done something insane by approaching them and jump in the conversation, and House was nothing but insulted she'd even dared to listen.

But since that door had been opened, there was no need to hold it back anymore.

"It's not about gaining time," she added then, looking over at Brown since he was the one to convince, and she really couldn't afford to meet House's eyes. "Kidney's failure prevents the pain medication from working," Cuddy felt House's look on her, like a wild animal, but gulped down and ignored it. "No matter how much you give her-"

"Nobody asked your opinion, this isn't an open consultation," House hissed at Cuddy, and although those were the first words he had addressed her, there was clearly no reason to celebrate.

"Dr. House, is that the reason?" Brown asked, immediately picking up Cuddy's suggestion, but looking over at House as he spoke. "You want me to authorize a kidney transplant from you so your mother's medication can work?"

"No you idiot, having an organ of mine ripped out it's something I've always wanted to do!"

"House-"

"I told you," House grumbled in between his teeth, suddenly stepping closer and hovering above Cuddy, his face stiffening and hardening with rage as he approached her, once again making her regret she'd finally gotten his attention. "Nobody asked your opinion."

Wisely, and mainly because for the first time since she knew him she was seriously afraid of him, Cuddy kept her mouth shut and gathered all the energy she had to hold his penetrating gaze. Cursing herself for the inopportune intervention, at least Cuddy could count on Brown for a little help, and she had to thank some dean's solidarity if there was any.

"I'll call Dr. Bright," Brown announced, to House and Cuddy's surprise. "I'm not going to authorize this procedure, but it doesn't mean I'll let your mother be in pain till the end."

That said, maybe sensing leaving them was a wise thing to do, for himself too, Dr. Brown walked away pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. Cuddy watched him leave, fighting back a sigh of relief, and not to show any sign of satisfaction proved to be the right choice when she looked over at House. He was watching Brown leaving too, or to be more precise he was staring randomly in that direction. His face was hard and steady as she had seen it since she'd been there, and if he was any pleased there was a possibility he might get what he wanted he wasn't up to show it.

Not with her.

"This is not your hospital, I'm not your employee here," he said not looking at her, and despite his voice didn't sound harsh that's how Cuddy perceived it. "You can't tell people what to do here. You shouldn't even be here."

"I just-"

"Leave me alone," he grumbled again, his eyes never moving in her direction, not even by chance. "If you really want to do something for me, leave me the fuck alone."

"House-"

She stepped forward, the little she needed to reach out for him and touch his arm, brushing the skin of his forearm uncovered by the shirt since she had rolled up his sleeves. He had no reaction, his skin was icy cold and that, along with the fact he seemed to not even acknowledge her presence, had Cuddy wondered since when life had abandoned his body. Then realized, like a stab in her heart, he'd never even said her name.

"I'm sorry for-"

"Gregory."

Aunt Sarah appeared on Blythe's room door, hands quietly joined on her lap but fingers nervously fidgeting with each other. The woman was a bundle of nerves, keeping it together God knew how, the stoic internal suffer of women grown up with tons of silent and new battles to fight every day. Those women who could be driven nuts by napkins not matching the cloth, and at the same time bear the worst things life could throw at them. Those women, like Sarah and Blythe, who could give death a stunning and dignified explanation just by the look in their eyes when the moment came.

If, and Cuddy didn't believe it, House was about to register her presence, she'd never know. First, he pulled away from her and straightened up as if his mom had just told him to, then he slowly rolled down the sleeves of his shirt and adjusted is clothes. Silent, Cuddy watched him compose himself, ready to be a good son for the last time. He walked toward his aunt and exchanged with her countless stares, but no words. Then the woman took his hand and squeezed it, giving and asking strength. House nodded and took a deep breath, then straddled his face with one hand and limped inside the room.


	10. Chapter 10

10

"Why aren't you inside?"

She looked up at the woman, her genuine and apologizing smile offered along with the cup of coffee in her hand, just a simple gesture yet representing more than what words could do. Smiling herself, she took the hot beverage and leaned back on the chair, her body language inviting her to sit on the closest one.

"I don't think he'd want me there," she answered quietly with a shrug. "It's not my place to be."

"She's your sister," Cuddy pointed out then, sitting next to Sarah.

"But it's their moment," the older woman explained with a serene smile. "It's sad it came now and because of this, but they needed it."

Cuddy didn't say anything, there was really nothing she could have said anyway, not facing the wise yet painful reasoning of the older woman. She was right, twice, about that being sad and needed. Still, a part of her was somewhat disturbed by how things were approaching the end. Cuddy could see House doing that, bearing his mother's death, the very moment, all on his own. Cut off from the rest of the world, isolated, at the same time trapped and protected by his own pain.

Alone.

As he usually was, as he somehow felt he was supposed to be.

"Maybe I should…I don't know if I should apologize for him, maybe not," Sarah said then, surprising Cuddy. "Truth is I don't know him well enough. I do know he can be hard on people, but he has to have his reasons, valuable to him at least," the woman sighed and glanced over at Cuddy, shyly. "But I also feel I should thank you for being here."

"I really did nothing," Cuddy admitted, understanding both the rebuking and comforting parts randomly mixed in Sarah's speech.

"You tried," she said then, looking toward Blythe's room. "It's way more than what a lot of people ever did for him."

There it came. It had been a long time since she had felt it, that painful sting somewhere inside her she felt every time the ghost of House's past, of that part of his life he had told nobody about, poked from under the layers of deflection he had buried it underneath. For a long time she had cared, along with Wilson, trying to fix whatever wound House's soul might have taken. But it seemed to be useless most of the time, hard because one way or the other things kept getting in his way.

The man who came out of the room was not Gregory House, at least not the same one who had gone there some hours before. His face was soft, lightened up with tears, his eyes sparkling with odd relief for something bad being finally over. His limp not as heavy as he spotted his aunt and took a step in her direction. That was all she let him do: quickly, she stood up and closed the distance standing in front of him, a silent nod saying things his voice couldn't. Sarah nodded back and sighed, then tears appeared on her eyes and finally seek for a silent comfort in House's arms.

Cuddy didn't know how long it lasted, although something told her that was easily the longest embrace of House's life. With no doubt, the longest one she had seen him bear, and he looked oddly fine with it. She enjoyed it, almost mesmerized, then the bitter sweet view of House letting himself go was broken by the sound of her cell phone. Urging to answer, wondering why it seemed so loud all, for a moment Cuddy thought Wilson had and impressing timing. Then she saw the caller was Lucas, and a relived smile came up to her face. She could really use some of that, a connection with someone who wasn't holding grudges with her for whatever reason, and she was more than glad to answer and take a break.

As she answered the phone, Cuddy looked around looking for a quiet place where to speak then headed to the stairs, smiling widely at Lucas's affectionate greeting. Questions about how things were going were inevitable, and she informed him House's mom had just gone. Carefully, she omitted the part about House ignoring her or being mad at her at best, simply glad Lucas showed a genuine concern for House. Then, of course, conversation switched on Rachel and quickly ended with discussing when she would have been back, to which Cuddy answered vaguely talking about the funeral.

But once she had hang up the phone and opened the door to go back in the hallway the cell phone almost fell on the ground, the grip of her hand around it losing when she found House standing there, clearly waiting for her. It was the first time since she's gotten there he came to her, and it was obvious Cuddy wouldn't have liked it.

"Why are you still here? You're supposed to be home, with your family," he said, straightforwardly questioning her presence for the first time.

"House, I'm sorry for your mom-"

"You shouldn't. Nobody asks you to," House said then stepped toward her, threatening, letting the door close behind him and cutting them out of the rest of the world. "Nobody asked you to come either, I don't want you here."

"I just," Cuddy gulped down, nervous, his intense blues eyes merciless grounding her to the floor. "I just wanted to help."

"You're not the boss here, there's nothing you could do…there's nothing I could have done," for a moment his voice and eyes trembled, the weight of defeat heavy on his shoulders, but his figure hovering above her didn't cease to be intimidating. "You're nobody here, you knew even before coming. This is not your place to be, you were useless and you are even more now that she's dead."

"I thought you could…in this moment"- Cuddy searched for her strength, tilting her chin up fiercely but at the same time trying to be gentle and caring. "I thought you might use a friend."

"Yes, I could," he admitted, his face was so close it was impossible for Cuddy to miss the tears in his eyes, then they vanished as hate took over and his whole being hardened. "And I thought I made clear we're not."

If his goal was to crash her down or humiliate her, House sure hadn't planned on staying to see and savor his victory. As the sharp knife on his words was still plunging in her chest he just left, hastily turning around and grabbing the doorknob to swing the door open. But pain, of any kind, could be a powerful push and Cuddy was shaken out of her torpor, her pride itching and unwilling to let it go. He had been the one coming to her, and she had no intention to let him come, attack her and then just get away with it.

"Ok, so we're not friends," Cuddy blurted out reaching out for his hand. As he felt touched, House shrugged her hand off him and turned back to her, who was a little scared but tried not to show it. "But I know you and I knew your mother. There's nothing wrong in offering you some comfort, you need someone-"

"Wilson will be here, eventually," House announced, clearly with the intention to interrupt her and twirl the knife in the fresh open wound.

"I'm here now, House," Cuddy boldly answered back. "You might be too stubborn and proud to accept it but I-"

"Watch it Cuddy," he threatened, he stepped even closer and Cuddy had to pull back until her back hit the wall, and she realized she had nowhere to go. "You don't want to argue with me now."

"I don't want to argue at all House, I just," she paused, she heard her own voice spiking up and took a deep breath to calm herself down, then she slowly lifted her hand up trying to reach for his face. "I don't want you to be alone now."

Cuddy had no idea what bold impulse had gotten into her, how could she be all of sudden so brave, and she didn't expect House to let her touch him. He did, and despite the gesture was meant for good it ended up making Cuddy feel extremely bad. Ashamed of herself mostly, knowing she was somehow taking advantage of him: of his fresh grief and deep sorrow, of the weakness exposing his bare soul. He let her touch him, just a tentative hint of her hand on his right cheek at first, then she pushed further, resting her whole palm on his face and gently, stroking his skin. House felt like a shockwave through his body, he suddenly felt out of breath and closed his eyes, inhaling a huge amount of air through his teeth, fighting to regain control of himself or at least find again the aggressiveness he had counted on thus far.

"I'm alone," his voice barely cried out, his eyes still closed to keep tears under control. Then he pulled back and went back to the door, keeping it open as he added, dryly. "Go home Cuddy, there's nothing you can do about this."

"House-"

"You're a doctor Cuddy," he muttered then with a low voice, empty as the blank stare he gave the hallway in front of him on his way out. "You should know when you can't fix something…you should know when it's time to let it go."


	11. Chapter 11

_Sorry to keep you waiting, no internet connection is taking its tool on my activities._

_Here's a new update, following up the emotional moment House and Cuddy had after days of awkward silence_

* * *

11

The first smile of her he could remember, although he couldn't really recall how he had made her happy.

The first time she had cried for him, whatever the reason.

The first time she had been mad at him: not sure why, but he had more likely deserved it.

The first time she had been proud of him, even if it was really hard to say about what. And mainly because she hadn't told him straight, instead shyly showed it on the surface.

The first time her face had lightened up seeing sparkles of his brilliant mind, along with the first disappointment in realizing it came along with loneliness.

The first time, thanks to her reaction, he had understood he was special, with all due pros and cons.

The first time he had let her down, with that sombre dark shadow in her eyes.

Then the first time he had lied to her and gotten away with it, the one that had opened the door to countless more, thank to a useful tool such as guilty, something he had soon learned how to use at his own advantage. For a long time, he had kept an empty spot in his childhood's first times list: waiting for the moment he could have added the first time she had stepped up for him. A debut that never came, and never would have.

Weird, of the many things he could have remembered of his mother in the moment of her death, he ended up remembering the ones that had hurt both of them. The ones they've thought time could heal, until they had ran it out for try to fix things.

"I'm alone."

He whispered, hating himself for his weak voice, mad he had let his guard down enough for Cuddy to touch him, to come emotionally close as he had promised himself not to let her. He pulled back, stepping away, and abandon her touch was easier than what he thought. He felt free, even more when he opened the door and the air hit his face.

"Go home Cuddy," he said. Then, not liking how weak his voice sounded he felt the need to add something. "There's nothing you can do about this."

"House-"

"I thought you were smarter than this," oh yes it was back, that thrill mocking and demeaning her used to give him. "As a doctor, you should know when you can't heal someone."

It didn't come out as he wanted, but he had no time nor will to stop and check the effects of his words on her. After all, that wasn't really even about getting some kind of revenge on her, or hurt her. If anything, once gotten rid of the annoyance of seeing her there, he didn't give a damn about Cuddy being there. Not his business, he hadn't asked her, he had been more than clear he didn't want her around-

Yet his heart was pounding, the spot on his face Cuddy's hand had touched seemed was burning, his hand sweaty around the cane and his leg howling in pain. House was mad at himself for feeling that way, for being so easily affected by her. The quiet of the hospital in the late evening, although fighting with his internal turmoil, managed to calm him down. The moment he saw Sarah and Brown, House felt the need to regain control. His mother had just passed and if he had to be a mess and lose it, then it should have been about that and nothing else.

Something he realized was naturally happening, when silent and un-warned tears started to pour in his eyes. That quiet cry could only came from the grief for his loss, because any reaction caused by Cuddy would have been with no doubt on a different register. Wiping tears with his sleeve House bit at his bottom lip, then huffed and headed toward his aunt and Brown, who stopped talking as they saw him approach. House hated that, the odd silence after death: everything is potentially wrong, and probably not a single thing is the right one to say in such circumstances anyway, then why bother be so guarded?

"I'm sorry for your loss Dr. House," _Here we go!_ House thought as the dean started to speak, but then he added. "There are papers we need you to sign."

"Of course," House quickly answered, his consideration for Brown growing all of sudden. "You might have some service's agencies to address me."

"We'll find everything in my office."

"Good. Sarah," House said then looking at his aunt. "I guess…you know better than me if she had any indication-"

"She just wanted to be with your father," the woman said in a low voice, House's jaw clenching at her words but she didn't notice and just sighed. "I think …I'd rather stay with her a little longer."

Both House and Brown nodded silently at her and watched the woman going back in her sister's room, then he silently followed the dean in his office.

* * *

"You're leaving?"

"Yes, I-" Cuddy started off to say while adjusting the purse on her shoulder, but then she realized whatever she might say seemed out of place.

"You're not staying for the funeral?"

Sarah's question came out of the blue, taking Cuddy off guard. She wasn't sure the older woman knew about her confrontation with House and all the issues included, but for sure she was aware she and her nephew's weren't exactly on good terms. Which was why the last thing she expected to be asked was attending the funeral, something she wisely hadn't even considered. Cuddy wasn't even sure House wanted her to know about that. All she knew, thank to Brown, was that after filling some papers House had gone home to get some much needed rest, leaving Sarah's in charge of the funeral. No wonder and no surprises he was drained out, he'd been forced to deal with so much and it was a pure miracle he could still hold it together.

But whatever the upcoming events in store for him, Cuddy wouldn't have been there to see them.

"No, I have to go back home."

Cuddy said nothing more, confident House's aunt could take the bait. And in fact she did, a silent nod was all the two women needed to seal whatever deal that was, to state whatever Cuddy had intended to do by coming there it was no case to purchase it any further.

"Thanks for coming," Sarah said then, giving Cuddy a tired smile before walking toward the exit.

Cuddy watched her from her spot, she hadn't really tried to catch up with Sarah, she actually felt she shouldn't have gotten anywhere near House's family anymore. But it had happened and, if anything, that short and odd conversation managed to make her feel a less horrible person. Cuddy was about to go out, take her car and stop by at her hotel to check out and then drive back home, when she got a text. A tired huffed escaped her mouth when she saw it was from the hospital, almost cursing herself for being so good at her job, and by the time she took care of it Brown was standing at her side.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes," Cuddy answered, surprised by how the same question could sound so different in such a small space of time, then waved her phone up at him. "Work calls."

"I know the feeling," the dean stated knowingly, then stretched one hand to her. "It was a pleasure to meet you, no matter the circumstance. I've always admired the gutsy dean who hired him, more than Dr. House himself."

"I'll let her know if I see her," Cuddy answered jokingly while returning the gesture with a smile. "I hope he didn't give you a hard time."

"Here he was just a man losing his mother, nothing more," _Nothing more…_ Cuddy thought, sadly agreeing if she had to think about the recent one she had seen. "Have you seen Mrs. Miller?"

"She just left, about ten minutes ago I think. Why?" She had to ask when she saw the light disappointment on his face. "Something wrong?"

"No, no I just forgot to give these back to Dr. House," he explained holding up and envelope. "It's his mother personal belongings, Mrs. Miller said they needed them… I'm gonna call him later, I don't think it's that urgent but-"

"I can stop by and give them to him."

_What the hell are you doing?_

"Are you sure?"

_Yes, are you sure?_

"Of course, it's on the way."

_Liar, you're such a liar and you're gonna pay for this!_

"Well in this case-"

With no further resistance, Brown gave her the envelope. Cuddy tried not to show how nervous she was as she took it, but didn't need to hide it when she got in the car. She shouldn't have been eager to go there. Hell, she shouldn't have been on her way there at all! Then why, why was it so important to her to take that risk? Why did she feel necessary to push it?

_Because he's hurt and he didn't mean what he said. I know him better than that…he shouldn't be alone now._

The same mantra drove along with her to Blythe House's home, now lonely occupied by her son, but it didn't work as well when it came to walk the distance from the car to the door. _Just knock,_ Cuddy said to herself as she took the first step. _Just say why you're here…no, just give him the envelope, leave him the chance to ask if he's up to… God he'll probably shut the door at my face!_ She stopped for a second, uncertain and about to walk away, but instead stepped forward. _Then I'll just leave it on the door… _Oh c'mon! she tilted her chin up fiercely, fast approaching the door. _You know how to deal with him, this isn't that bad. You can do it, just don't push it, you can do it…_

She could, yet the knock on the door stole her breath for a moment and Cuddy kept holding it when she heard footsteps approaching on the other side. _Here we go,_ Cuddy thought with a long breath. _Please don't let it be ugly, we can work this out…_

She was not ready for it, she had imagined a lot of different scenarios but not that one. Not Wilson opening the door to her. Not his hard and steady face, immediately stiffening when he saw her.

Some part of Cuddy's brain was telling her she shouldn't have been surprised. Wilson had done nothing but follow the given schedule, give his speech and fly there. Yet, a bigger part of her mind struggled to think it could be true. Because Wilson didn't ask her to come in, he didn't even ask why she was there and instead looked at the envelope in her hand, suspiciously. After all, if Cuddy was not mistaken, House had already provided him with all he needed to know.

And the only piece left on the puzzle was the envelope in her hand.

"He's sleeping," Wilson said, and by the way he urged to explain Cuddy could tell it was a lie.

"Dr. Brown asked me to return this," she basically lied, handling him the envelope.

The oncologist held her gaze for a second, then never clearing the way in he stretched his hand to take the package, not even looking at it. That, in James Wilson's polite manners, was a clear invitation to drop it and just leave.

"Wilson, I'm-"

"He's sleeping, Cuddy," he repeated flatly, rising on the lie contest they've engaged, then he started to push the door closed. "He's gonna be fine."

"I just," she thought about stepping closer but didn't, wisely, struggling to go on. "I just have to do something."

"You don't have to do anything," Wilson stated then, with a hint of scorn in his voice he couldn't hide. "You've done enough."

With that, he closed the door on her face, gently but with no space for appeal. Cuddy stared at the door for a while, speechless and confused, her inner voice mockingly singing in her mind I told you so. Yet she spent the long and lonely drive home trying to convince herself Wilson's statement was necessarily as bad as she thought.


	12. Chapter 12

12

It was good to feel back.

The genuine smile on Marina's face opening the door, the spontaneous goofy run of Rachel toward her, the warm and pleasant welcome of Lucas's arms.

It was good to feel at home.

Her place, known and familiar. Smell, sounds, images, rooms… A hot tea ready for her in the teapot, a fresh salad only to dress in order to be eaten, the softness of her sheets.

It was good to feel free.

Objects and items she could use, touch and dispose of the way she wanted. She could do what she felt like to without fear, say what she had to without considering and weight every one of her words, she could think what she needed to not feeling like she was doing something wrong. No permission to ask, no pardons to deliver.

It was good to feel missed.

Rachel glued on her everywhere she went around home, the ingénue fear of the kid she could lose mommy again just by not sharing the same room. The need of her daughter to share everything she had done in the last couple of days, a rumbled tell made funny and difficult by Rachel's excitement and reduced vocabulary. The parade of drawings she had shown, the countless hugs wrapping her, until sleep had finally won over the young girl.

It was good to feel loved.

A hand resting on her shoulder, a quick squeeze to hers, a glance and a smile during dinner. Lucas's absent and almost careless caresses had eased the fatigue and tension of the past few days, step by step, until Marina had gone home and Rachel to bed. His kisses, his lips and hands on her skin once he had gently and ceremoniously undressed her, their bodies coming together finally erasing the repulsion she had somewhat felt for herself.

It was good to feel needed.

Back to work on Monday morning, a pile of papers to read and sign on her desk, dozens of e-mails and messages to answer to, various requests to browse. People relying on her skills, doctors asking for her consultation, patients demanding her attention. PPTH claiming its dean of medicine, requiring all her energy and dragging her in a difficult yet known ground.

Yes, it was good to feel back.

* * *

There's no good weather for a funeral. Either it rains and everything seems even more sad and depressing, or it doesn't, and instead the shining sun pisses you off because it makes you feel like someone, somewhere, is demeaning your loss. Not that it would have changed anything, not even the brightest and most coloured of the rainbows could have won over House's deep and dark grief. And it should have been like that, Wilson had no doubt about it.

Since from when he had arrived in Lexington, the oncologist had never left his friend alone. Quite literally, since other than sleeping House had crashed on the couch two nights in a row, knocked down by grief, pain, alcohol, guilt and regret.

Yet, despite everything, House had taken care of things. Being there with and for his aunt arranging the service, giving his two cents when requested. It had been like be on a swing: one moment he was present and focused, and the one after he hung around like a ghost. Wilson had expected nothing less, given the circumstances. House hadn't said much to him about the last days of his mom, nor about Cuddy's presence, yet the things he had shared with him through his behave had been enough. When Cuddy had knocked at the door, House's gaze of fear had taught him better to send her away. Something which he would have probably done anyway, since the last thing House needed was dealing with that, and the oncologist felt nothing but guilty for haven't been at House's side sooner.

Wilson have had the chance to catch up and he hadn't waste it, being there the way House needed: silent and discreet, supportive but not pitying, caring but not fussing. And with the right dosage of strength to shake him every now and then. House had done his part too, allowing Wilson to share his grief in his own way and mocking his friend for hanging around his mom's place like a bull in a china shop, while the last act fast approached.

Get it done, the sooner he could. Quickly, like removing a plaster. Too bad, of course, that wasn't a plaster. That wasn't s wound easy to heal, not even for the best doctor of the country. Sitting in the room filled with people he didn't know, Wilson never stopped to look at House, who had been standing silent near the coffin with Sarah at his side the whole morning, piling up condolences. Not so long ago he had witnessed something similar, yet circumstances couldn't have been more different. Not just for the lack of military uniforms around. House himself was different, swallowed, chewed and digested by all those things he had always tried to avoid: nostalgia, failure, pain, lack of control, being forced to put his fate in someone else's hands.

And this time, when House alone finally stepped closer to his mother's coffin and Wilson stood up next to him, the oncologist knew there was no game going on. No weird test to do, nothing to check or prove, no confirmation to get to appease his need to know and being proven right.

There was nothing but sadness and loneliness.

Nothing.

* * *

It was odd to be back.

He didn't feel needed.

In the few days he had taken for the funeral and arrange things in Lexington, his team had taken care of two patients. No simple or silly ones: they've handled an interesting case of early Alzheimer, detached thank to subjective doubles syndrome, and a peculiar variant of encephalopathy. Two real bitches, yet lead by Foreman his team and solved them without even a phone call. Yeah, they were indeed smarter when he was not around.

He didn't feel loved.

His dying mother and her mourning sister had given him more attention than what he had received in his whole life, and it had been all for free. Even the walls of his youth's home had meant something nice to him, making him dig in the ugly things of his past to reveal the good ones. Few, and because of that even more precious.

He didn't feel missed.

No surprise, he'd never been Mr. Popularity anyway and once back at PPTH it had become even more evident. Address people in mourning it's never easy, let alone for someone you barely know and you don't like, and notice how bad people tried to avoid him hadn't been hard. Not that he couldn't understand them: who would have wanted to deal with a mourning Gregory House anyway?

He didn't feel free.

For a week more or less, far from a place he used to consider home, he had been allowed to be who he wanted to be, who he needed to be. A son, a non-guarded man, a supporting nephew, a grown up orphan needing to be consulate. Bad or good, his emotions had been free to take control and show, his brain taking a much-needed vacation leading him like a lone pioneer facing a new frontier. And all of sudden, he felt like an Indian enclosed in a limited reserve.

He didn't feel back.

It was a matter of time, he knew it. The more you're eradicate somewhere, the more difficult it becomes to settle back in, especially after a rough journey. The shooting, the DBS, Mayfield…no one could come home after something like that and expect things to flow back at their place, just snapping his fingers. He was no Mary Poppins, and his life sure wasn't a Disney movie.

No, it was odd to be back.

And it felt strangely ok to feel odd.


	13. Chapter 13

_So everything should be back to normal for House now, shouldn't it?_

* * *

13

He shouldn't have been surprised, and he hadn't been when House had called to schedule a session, as soon as they could. A man who had just lost a loved one, the last loved one, a man who have had his world tossed around and who used to spend a lot of energy in keep things for himself, all of sudden felt the need to talk to his shrink. The urge to meet someone and open up was nothing but predictable.

Loss and grief could change people's priority and take on life, and he shouldn't have been surprised…if it had been about anybody else but House. That was nothing but a normal pattern, an understandable reaction. However, House was far from being normal, and his reactions were usually anything but understandable. Yet there they were, outside in the small court because his office seemed too small and claustrophobic, Nolan sitting on the bench and House absently but quickly pacing the space. House was silent, but Nolan had witnessed enough of his silences to know that one was different. So far in their sessions House had used silence as a tool, to waste time mostly, to deflect and hide: but that afternoon, more or less two weeks after his mother's funeral, House' silence was a normal one. No games, no tricks…it was just the silence of a man taking his time with no other purpose but say the right thing. And that was why Nolan had no hurry and no need to push him.

Not to mention, just watching House hanging around was fascinating, a different and refreshing take on the man he was used to see. Even when he was just sitting in his office without saying a word, House was always busy with something: his hand twirling the cane, his fingers tapping a rhythm he could hear in his head, and of course his mind permanently occupied. That was House, one way or the other always doing something and it didn't matter it if was for need or out of pure boredom. Therefore, when Nolan saw him put the cane down and pick up the abandoned basketball, he sensed House had just stepped in his comfort zone.

Time to make his move, mainly because he had no doubt something was going on and he didn't want to run out the time of their session before find out.

"I'm sorry for your mother," he said, and House shoot him a skeptical glare to which the shrink answered with a shrug. "Haven't had the chance to tell you yet."

"That was a lame start," House accused him.

"At least it was one."

House stared at him for a while, absently rolling the ball in his hands, then he looked over at the basket.

"I think I should leave."

He said nothing more, flatly, then threw the ball scoring a nice point, almost disappointed when he looked at Nolan's face and failed to see the big surprise he thought he would have seen.

"Sorry, should have I been shocked or something?" Nolan asked standing up and going to retrieve the ball he tossed back at him.

"I'm a man with no big feeling with changes and I'm telling you I want to leave the place I've lived in for 20 years," House paused and frowned. "Yes, a little surprise would have been-"

"So now it's want to leave," the shrink observed, mimicking House's previous frowning. "Thought you said you were just thinking about it."

"I have a strong inner self," House shrugged then threw the ball again, this time missing. "And a very weak one too, they argue all the time."

"So you want to leave," Nolan said bringing him back on track, and returning him the ball. "Leave what exactly? Your job-"

"Everything."

House cut him off throwing the ball, a gentle movement in the air ending inside the net, and Nolan almost urged to give it back to him. There was a pattern, a rhythm House was relying on with his words and the throwing, and the therapist knew he shouldn't break it, keeping the pressure on him as light as he could.

"Nothing to save"? He asked then, carefully balancing his two roles as counselor and ball boy.

"Living with Wilson was like living in the Big Brother's house, a special Health Office edition…a soft porn too, thank to Sam's presence," throw and score, then the ball back in his hands. "I moved back into my place trying to settle back in, but I don't feel…safe there," throw and score, then the ball back in his hand. "At work things, patients, just flow by one after the other. I feel like a damn secretary doing the same thing over and over, with no purpose," throw and missed, then the ball back in his hands and he threw it again immediately, scoring. "I've never been this bored in a long time."

"Boredom is not a reason to give up on everything."

"Now you're playing the devil's advocate, shrinks shouldn't been allowed to do that," House grumbled mockingly, his defensive sarcasm starting to emerge.

"Trust me, I'd like better not to, but you really leave me no choice."

"I'm not giving up," he pointed out then, quickly, almost as if he was scared Nolan could find out more of what he was ready to admit. "It's not even really about boredom, it's just," he let the ball go, it bounced on the bar a couple of times then fell in. "Is it that really bad, to want some changes?"

"You said it yourself," Nolan pointed out, trying a throw himself and scoring. "You're not fond of changes."

"Still," House looked at him, tilting his head on one side, studying him suspiciously. "You weren't surprised when I said I want to leave."

"You want, that makes two already," the therapist pointed out, the ball now forgiven since House had clearly found something else to keep himself busy with. "And I was indeed surprised…just not by what you thought."

"Not like I said much-"

"Yep. What you didn't say, that made it for me."

And he was hooked.

House was with no doubt a complicated man, yet even in his complexity there was one thing that could easily open a lot of doors. As long as he was interested, intrigued by something, communication with him was always an option. And he was indeed, in that moment. Nolan had offered him a bait, a small yet effective guessing game which had set the diagnostician's brain on fire. The fact he hadn't been shocked by his announcement had surprised House, but the reason why the shrink had failed to be impressed, and was now teasing him with, was a pure delightful mystery.

Nolan took his time to show off the teasing. House loved challenges and fierce opponents, and although that contest wasn't exactly orthodox, it sure worked. Once he was sure to have gained House's proper attention, Nolan stood in front of him handling him the cane he had previously abandoned.

"After all what you've been through in the last year, the need to change, shake things up a little and try to change perspective is understandable, normal," Nolan paused, giving House the time to get from the familiar grip around his cane the possibility to focus. "But you don't really do normal, as we both know. Therefore, in your case even doing something anybody would do, it's something out of the ordinary. Which keeps you in that "being special" sphere you're so familiar with."

"Your really make me sound like a lunatic," House muttered, suddenly massaging his right leg, but Nolan shrugged and picked up the basketball ball.

"Have you ever heard of The Leopard, House?" He asked, House nodded although his knowledge of Italian literature was a bit rusted. "For everything to stay the way it is, everything must change."

House didn't need to check or ask for any further explanations, he might not be that familiar with the book but he did get the meaning of Nolan's quote. And it fit: the situation, the way he was feeling, how he had felt since he'd come back from Kentucky. Sometimes, in order to stay the way you are, you really need not to be yourself anymore.

Sighing, House gave the shrink a small nod and then sat down on the bench, massaging his leg although the pain seemed to be fading already. With no hurry, Nolan carried the ball till the locker in the court and put it down, then slowly caught up with House and sat next to him.

"What's still missing here, is the trigger. The real reason behind this," Nolan said then, glancing at him. "You told me nothing about her."

Panic took over in the blink of an eye, how he managed not to spread his eyes open in shock and give himself away House would have never known. Of course, it didn't meant he wasn't a mess inside. How could he know? Yeah, Nolan was good but Cuddy had never been a topic to discuss between them. She'd been mentioned as boss and work stuff, he hadn't kept her totally out for many reasons, among which not to give Nolan the idea he'd rather avoid the topic. Yet, why bring Cuddy up? In that moment, when the honestly didn't think his decision had something to do with her…

"Your mother just died, how could this not be part of your decision?" Nolan insisted then, provoking a huge relief in House's whole being as he felt like melting on that bench.

And he was nothing but glad to pay that tribute, instead of something he wasn't ready to face.


	14. Chapter 14

_His mother's departure is having House reconsidering a few things in his life, but what about those around him?_

* * *

14

Nothing.

No messages, no emails, no rendez-vous scheduled.

Nothing.

No contacts with anybody, of any kind.

Nothing.

No things about to happen, stuff to be ready for or arrange.

Nothing, there was absolutely nothing.

No updates of any kind in his activities, or the social web stuff he pretended not to use.

Nothing.

If he hadn't seen House daily since he'd come back, if he haven't had lunch with him that very same day and mocked the new waiter in the cafeteria together, Wilson would have almost doubted his friend was still alive. Not that he was depressed or absent: he had smoothly settled back in after his loss, focused on work and almost pleased by the company of his team. However, it was hard for him to tell if he was really ok. At the hospital he seemed to be fine, or at least the usual House: but since House had moved back to his place, it was hard to tell how things were going in private, a part of his friend's life Wilson hadn't been able to see much lately.

As always walking on the line, the oncologist had been tiptoeing around House offering his company, carefully controlling the pressure. It wasn't easy and it rarely worked, but the cons of having to deal with such a smart man could become pros too, and even when House figured him out he was at least pleased the oncologist was trying to screw with him. Despite all of that, even having his food stolen, Wilson couldn't let go the feeling something was up with his best friend.

"Hei, you're still working?"

Sam's voice caught him in the middle of his silent reasoning, the oncologist lifted his head from the laptop and looked up at her, standing on what used to be House's bedroom and had recently become a study they could share. Quickly, he glanced at the screen and absently ran his fingers on the keyboard, bringing back on the monitor the document he was supposed to be working on.

"Yes," he huffed taking off his glasses and straddling his face. "I still have something to get ready for tomorrow."

"Well, at least if you have to work late you can do it at home."

"I'm sure I have more than one reason to at home,"

_One being not to have House snooping behind my back while I'm snooping on him, t_he oncologist added on his mind, smiling at Sam as she walked toward him.

"That's good to hear," she said softly, standing behind him and wrapping her arms around.

Glad he'd gotten away with it Wilson relaxed on his girlfriend's touch, he leaned back on the chair and covered her hands with his, the guilt for lying to her vanishing under her touch. Losing it up a little, Wilson pushed the chair away from the desk making some room, then pulled Sam down until she sat on his lap, wrapping his arms around her. She had the time to smile at him for some seconds before he occupied her mouth with a long and passionate kiss, she responded immediately and soon heat seemed to be taking over until they heard it crack a little under their combined weights. They broke apart laughing then Sam stood up, still standing close to Wilson and absently massaging his shoulders.

"I was thinking," she started off, while Wilson fidgeted on his seat to get rid of the stiffness down in his lap. "You think House is busy tomorrow night? I'd like to invite him over for dinner."

"I have no idea, that," the oncologist frowned curiously turning around on the chair to face her. "That's not exactly what I had in mind, sure not while making out with you."

"It's just…you told me what he's been through and now he's back living on his own."

"It was his choice, I actually think he needed it," he frowned again, tilting his head on one side. "You're not feeling guilty for him, aren't you?"

"Of course not. As you said it was his call," Sam stated, sitting on the desk in front of him and then shrugging. "But I know you miss hanging around with him, I'm sure he could some distraction…and God help me, I kind of miss that grumbling bear."

"You know Sam," he mumbled rubbing his hands on her legs. "Pity House is never a good thing."

"I do not pity him James. I'm trying to do something for him. Didn't know that was your exclusive," she retorted bitterly, clearly annoyed, then she stood up and started to walk away. "Never mind, silly me thinking I could do something nice for you two."

"Sam, Sam!" Wilson called her, standing up quickly and catching her hand. "Listen, I'm sorry. I know you mean good but House," he sighed and shook his head, looking for the right words. "It doesn't matter how good your intentions are, it doesn't work with him sometimes. In the end, what matters is how he perceives it."

"James," Sam said, tired to have yet again the same conversation but gently resting her hands on his shoulders as he wrapped his arms on her hips. "He's your best friend and I believe nobody knows him better than you, but you can't do it on your own. You're right, House is not an easy person but you know what? We're not fond of each other-"

"That is an understandement!"

"-but no matter this, we managed to put aside our differences because of you. So please let me try to return him the favor," she cupped his face in her hands and gave him a quick kiss. "If he could do that he shouldn't be that bad after all. Just think about it, ok?"

Wilson waited a couple of seconds for her words to settle down in his mind, then nodded and squeezed her hand in a thankful gesture before leaving the room. Alone again, the oncologist spent some time pondering Sam's words. She had indeed a nice offer for House, and not just for him, but he wasn't sure it could have been a good idea. Not until he'd found out what House was up to, admitting he was up to something.

Which was why he went back to his previous occupation, shamelessly digging in House's private e-mails and other stuff, searching for any kind of warnings. He went back to his computer and re-opened the "secret" window he'd been working on, along with some notes, included stealing House's evergreen to bribe the janitors to bring him his friend's trash bin content. Judging by those elements, House's life seemed to have become even more boring and empty, fortunately drugless. Although looking like he was doing fine, Wilson couldn't help but doubt the situation. A bored House with nothing to do was hardly a good thing.

Twenty minutes later, when his eyes were getting tired and his hopes about to dissolve, browsing copy of House's hospital correspondence he finally found what he was looking for. Yet, once he had it, he wasn't that sure he wanted it anymore.

Sighing, Wilson shut everything down and went to the kitchen, thinking at least Sam would have been nothing but thrilled to know the day after she should have settled the table for three.

* * *

"Ok, I don't get this," Sam stated, her voice spiking up. "You get the weird janitor with backward pants, the bitchie gay male nurses, the girl with 6 fingers and all crazy staff members like them, and we don't have any weird people at my hospital?"

Wilson and House stared at her puzzled, House still chewing his dessert, then the two men looked at each other and shrugged.

"I don't know, maybe one just leads to the other."

"I know why. It's Cuddy's fault," House quipped absently, showing in his mouth another forkful of chocolate cake. "It's her Samaritan complex, spreading to the human resources department."

"I actually think it's part of her plan to increase hospital's reputation," the oncologist observed, keeping up the mocking tone of his friend. "She hires bad staff, but still manages to keep the standards high. That increases our accreditation."

"Or gather someone else's crap to have your smell of roses," House mumbled thoughtful, picking up his glass he then offered Wilson for a toast. "There's a sneaky dictator in you Wilson, I've always known."

"Learned from the best," he answered returning the toast, causing Sam to roll her eyes.

"Oh my God, can't you discuss of sports and cavemen things like any other man? I'm seriously starting to wonder how people can put up with you two."

"And I'm starting to wonder how much laxative you poured in my food," House grumbled, curling up the napkin and tossing it on the table. "I need to evacuate, and if I find evidences-"

"House!"

"Just saying," he defended himself as he stood up, then grabbed his cane and limped to the bathroom.

Let alone, Wilson and Sam exchanged a quick look and a couple of smiles, then she stood up and quietly started to collect the dirty dishes.

"I'm gonna bring some coffee and some liquors," she informed him while piling up the plates, then nodded in the bathroom's direction. "Whatever you want to tell him, you're running out of time."

Wilson smiled and gave her hand a quick squeeze, feeling a little ashamed he hadn't share his plan with her, and instead used her offer to invite House over for his own goals. Then she left and Wilson picked up his glass drinking away the last sip of wine, waiting, frowning when after a while he heard House leave the bathroom but not coming back at the table.

_Of course,_ the oncologist thought with a smile, then stood up and went to the liquor cabinet, poured a couple of scotches and then went to the study. As expected, he found House there, standing in front of the window of what had been his bedroom, then Wilson moved and caught up with him. House heard and sensed him approach but didn't move, not until the oncologist handled him one of the glasses.

"How did you find out?" He asked taking the glass.

"You terminated your membership card for the Chinese take away," Wilson explained with a deadly serious tone. "I found the form."

House huffed a bitter smile out of his lips, shaking his head and then again offering his friend a toast of admiration.

"Where are you going? Road trip across US? On the road pilgrimage on American's best 100 steakhouse?"

"Tempting, but no," House said, laughing at his friend's suggestions. "Haven't decided yet, I just need to go somewhere else."

"To do what?"

"Nothing in the short run. Hopefully move on in the long term," House answered quickly, sounding like he'd really given it more than one thought. Then he sipped his drink and grumbled disgusted. "For God's sake Wilson! Scotch?"

"House, are you-" the oncologist urged to bring him back on track, ripping the glass out of his hands. "Are you sure about this?"

"Not really, but looks like not being sure is actually part of the process."

Wilson studied his friend, wounded in more ways than what he could name, yet standing there with the fierce intention to fight. It hurt, knowing he would have had no chance to be at his side for that fight simply teared his heart apart. But Wilson didn't need to be a shrink to figure out fighting on his own was, for House, part of the winning process.

"I'm not going to miss you," Wilson blurted out then, slowly nodding at himself and giving House an evil grin. "I'm not going to miss you at all."

"You better," House mocked him back with a grimace of his own, a satisfied smile teasing on his lips. "I'm not going you miss you either…you girly girl."

"Geez House, you can't even let me have a farewell with no mocking?"

"You started it," House muttered, spotting tears in the oncologist eyes.

In any other moment, he would have rolled his eyes at his friend feminine reaction, but couldn't. Not when he felt his own eyes blur, and had to come up with something appropriate to fight them back.

"If I let you hug me, will you try to grab ass?"


	15. Chapter 15

_House dropped the bomb: he feels it's time for him to leave PPTH. But where would he go? And what would he do?_

* * *

15

It had never been a problem to him, bursting in the dean of medicine's office was like taking a stroll in the park. Ok, being a cripple he should have probably used a different metaphor, still he'd never been shy about it. Go in there, do his stuff, say what he had to, get what he wanted and then leave, hopefully victorious. That was what he did, what he had always done: yet, that early morning stone shoes wrapped his feet, keeping him glued to the ground and unable to cover the distance to the door. However, find out why such an old and familiar habit had suddenly become too hard for him wasn't that difficult: he was well aware of what the difference was.

He was awaited.

Inside that room, behind those closed doors, there was someone waiting for him. And he wasn't sure to be ready for that confrontation. It didn't matter he had been the one asking for the meeting, outcomes were various and different. No matter that, he felt he couldn't step back.

Truth was, if he wouldn't have done it he couldn't have stepped forward either.

He closed his eyes and gripped the cane steadily, then huffed and shook his head with a hoarsely grunt escaping his mouth, the sound of his hand knocking on the door finally sending through his brain the reality of the situation, as he was quickly invited in.

"You came, eventually," Brown stated staring at him from above his glasses, then leaned back on the chair joining his hands on his lap and sighed. "You already cost me 50$, this interview doesn't start really well."

"What was the bet?" House asked closing the door behind him. "How late I would have been?"

"Bet was you wouldn't have shown up at all. Although, I have to say nobody believed me when I said you scheduled an interview Then, the moment the news spread I could have filled my retirement founds selling tickets to attend."

"Good thing we chose Sunday though," House huffed, absently looking around the room, highly unknown, then he snorted. "An outrageously early Sunday morning."

"Actually, you chose Sunday," Brown pointed out leaning forward on the desk to study him better, catching the way House's jaw clenched then he stood up and added. "Let's go out for a walk."

House grumbled something. He'd been driving all the way down there, pushing on the gas not to be late, his leg was still stiffening and a walk was the last thing he felt like doing. But before he could try to offer something else, Brown walked up and past by him reaching the door, and instead of taking his jacket off House tucked himself in again, submissively following him. There weren't a lot of people around, yet from those few ones House could catch a different vibe. When he'd been there the first time he was just a patient's relative, his name and reputation had been starting to get at them short before he had left. Now he was back, not only that he was back to apply for a job, and as he followed Brown outside House felt those eyes now looking at "that" Dr. House.

Far from knowing how that made him feel, House put those thoughts aside and followed Brown. The dean of medicine headed not to the main entrance, but instead to a simple glass door which guided them into a small park. House was a little taken aback, he'd been hanging around the hospital for a week and had missed that place, and although it wasn't a warm day he liked the atmosphere around.

Quiet, silent, isolated, unknown.

Exactly what he was looking for.

"You chose Sunday because you wouldn't need to ask for a day off," Brown said then, a clear statement with no doubts. "Does anybody know you're here? Why you're here?"

As they kept walking, House took his time to answer, studying the man. He looked a lot younger than his 70 years, House had spotted some pics and sport's trophies in the office and the dean's body still showed signs of a youth activity. Yet, House valued he had started to age before he'd liked to, given the white thick beard and hair. But he was facing his age with a serenity House wished he could have too, and watched him push his glasses up his nose before speaking.

"Only the ones who matters," House said then, dismissively.

"Which I presume don't include Dr. Cuddy," Brown observed, glancing at him quickly. "I called her two days ago, your name didn't come up. Don't worry, of course I didn't tell her anything. There's nothing wrong in hiding your current boss you're looking for a new one."

"If you didn't bring my name up, how can you be sure she doesn't know?"

"Dean's secret language code," the doctor quipped with a small smile, then added more serious. "If she'd known you're applying for a job here, she's had some kind of reactions hearing from me, instead conversation flew by smoothly. Not to mention you didn't bring any letter of recommendation from her."

_No wonder,_ House thought biting at his bottom lip.

"So you tricked her," he said instead, with a hint of male complicity in his words.

"Point is Dr. House," Brown sighed, sitting on the edge of a fountain. "before getting through this, I need to know why you're here."

"Thought the application form said it all."

"You know what? You're right," he said pointing at him, then took off his glasses and a handkerchief to clean them. "Let me rephrase it," he lifted the glasses to check the lens for more stains, spotted one and worked on it. "You've been working at PPTH for a long time, solid contract. Large freedom, office and staff, boss and other doctors putting up with your crap enough to let you work, a reputation as bad as long is the list of patients greedy to become yours," he put his glasses on, looking at House with shining lens and eyes. "Why would you want to give up all of this, it's a real mystery to me. Mainly because, in case you're wondering, you won't get any of that here."

"Why-fair enough. It all comes down to why, doesn't it?" House huffed, then looked around and sat on a bench in front of the fountain. "Because I've worked there for longer than what I should have. Because of my "to fire me you have to walk over my dead body" contract and the outrageous freedom…nothing against office, but I'd have some complains about parking spots. Because my had been team shaken and changed till exhaustion. Because boss and doctors putting up with my crap," he waved his hand in the air absently, as if he was getting tired of listing, then stared straight at Brown with a serious expression. "I'm a spoiled brat with a bad attitude. I need to know there's still the diagnostician I used to know underneath the surface, the one that allowed me to get all of the above in the first place."

There he was, all in with no safety net. His resignation letter would have been on Cuddy's desk on Monday and he was there, the biggest bluff of his life going on stage against a player he didn't know enough. That was crap, his whole speech stank of fear like a filthy dumpster. Why in hell would he want to leave the amusement park PPTH had been for him to practice medicine, that little oasis of chaos under his control he felt the master of? Oh no, he wasn't giving up on that, he was going away from the one who had given it to him. Get a new job without Cuddy's recommendation would have been hard enough, the last thing he could afford was Brown to find out how desperate he was to lose his current job.

He counted on Brown's lack of knowledge when it came to him to get away with it. House had long performed the speech he'd just delivered, carefully balancing his words, mixing a bit of truth with the huge amount of lie in a motivational and self- improvement desire recipe he hoped he could score with. Trying not to hold his breath House stared at Brown, the older guy was looking at him with an expression House immediately registered for future need, and time seemed to freeze in that little garden. The quiet of it seemed too much, the silence too silent to stand, not just isolated but cut out from the rest of the world, like a trip to an alternate universe.

House needed a way out, he felt his breath itch and prayed Brown wouldn't have forced him to deliver the second part of his plea, since he hadn't practiced it as well as the first part.

"I've been told you're not good with second chances, yet you're giving yourself one," Brown finally said as he stood up looking down at House, then stretched his hand to him. "I don't know you enough to be sure you'll blew it, but I've heard enough about you to know you hate to fail."

"That is nice," House snorted, absently shaking his hand back and standing up. "Can I have it on the door of my office?"

"Who said you'll have an office?" Brown teased causing House to grin, then they started to head back inside as the dean started over with a calm knowing voice. "This diagnostic department you ran at PPTH, you think you can have it here too?"

"Do you have sick people?" House shoot back with a small laugh.

"Good. I have a lot of applicants for a position, the moment the word spread-"

"No," House cut him off quickly, stopping on track as they were about to enter back inside. "No assistants, no team."

For the first time since he'd been there, more likely for the first time since he'd known him, House saw a genuine stupor on the man's face. Taken aback, Brown froze on the door with his hand keeping it open, studying his about to be employee and wondering if that "oh my God I've just seen a ghost" look was something he should have learned to worry about.

"Why not?" he asked then, partially relieved by House's quick response.

"I don't need them," House said with a smut grin. Brown held his gaze for a while, apparently satisfied with the answer, then he stepped away to let him walk through the door. "I'm better off alone."


	16. Chapter 16

Well, many of you wondered what Cuddy would say of House's leaving…here comes your answer

16

She had seen it, but she hadn't signed it. Not straightforwardly, at least. Actually, she haven't even opened it, and it had been a huge mistake.

She knew what it was, she had immediately recognized the handwriting on the envelope but she had ignored it for a couple of days. And what was probably the right and simplest thing to do, had grown up becoming a huge deal.

She had signed it, eventually. What other choice did she have?

What other choice did he have?

Keep him there, against his will? Yeah, good luck with that! He'd probably done something outrageous enough to get himself fired anyway. No, Cuddy really had no other choice, and neither did House. When she had finally signed his resignation letter she had felt like she had lost not only an employee - a good one however a pain in the ass - but the biggest and boldest bet she had ever made.

Not a friend: she would have loved to say she was about to lose a friend, like Wilson, but Cuddy knew all too well that wasn't the case.

Not for her. Not anymore.

It had taken her two days to sign it, wondering why he had followed the normal procedure instead of coming in her office and just say he was quitting, as he had done in the past. Then it had become clear, the reason why she had to sign was exactly that. House hadn't come down there to see her and voice out his resignation, resignation he usually didn't meant or that could be easily bounced back. House had done what he had to, the way he was supposed to, and a reasonable and playing by the rules House was hard to ignore.

The moment she had signed the paper, days had just gone by. Although she'd never ran into him she knew he'd been there, upstairs working with his team and sometimes down in the clinic, not more nor less than usual. Cuddy had no idea how House was doing, her only meter was Wilson and given the few words they've shared, although none of them had been about House for real, she had gotten the idea, if anything at least, that he was not doing bad.

Before she knew it, the day has come. And although she had spent the entire week searching for the courage and the words for the goodbye, Cuddy had no idea she was miserably missing the moment. She was in a meeting, her mind miles away from House and focused on her job, unaware in that very moment an awkward yet genuine farewell was going on in the 4th floor conference room, with House desperately trying to hide how much he was appreciating that odd and circumstantial display of affection. Then the meeting was over, she picked up her stuff mentally listing what she had to buy at the grocery, heading to the elevator typing on her phone to update her agenda.

Randomly, focused on trying to remember all her appointments, Cuddy walked down the hallway of the 6th floor. With her eyes on the phone she pushed the ground floor button, and she barely realized the cabin stopped before reaching her desired destination. However, there was no way she could miss House standing on the elevator door at the 4th floor, standing there as a goofy totem with a box underneath his left arm.

It was all quick, and maybe because of that less embarrassing and painful. Before Cuddy could do anything, more likely run out of the elevator as her terrified brain suggested, House stepped inside. He stood in front of her and gave her his back, absently pushing the parking button. Awkwardness, fear; that merciless hating silence he'd been given her in Lexington; the oddness for the worst timed ever encounter: maybe House felt them all, or felt none, either way he seemed to brush it all off himself. Or simply ignore them, something he'd turned into an art by how much he'd performed with her.

The cabin moved downstairs, the air getting thick and dense around them until Cuddy felt her lungs filling with glue, and she hated House's back was the only thing she could see. Was he waiting for her to say something? Highly unlikely, they've barely spoken since he'd been back, since their face off in Lexington. Given the way he had avoided running into her or having to deal with her, Cuddy doubted he'd been waiting to hear anything from her. Then maybe…unseen, although not sure he couldn't sense her moves anyway, Cuddy straightened up digging in between his shoulder blades with her eyes, desperately trying to get some feedback as he fidgeted on his feet, adjusting the box under his arm. Maybe he wanted to say something, after all.

The epiphany hit her, after all that was their last…whatever. The elevator would have soon stopped at the ground floor, her stop, she would get out without saying a word, passing by him without a touch nor a look, and then the door would have closed on him, on them. Forever.

_Say something, just…anything_! She begged herself, glancing at the floor button switching from 3 to 2. _Wish him luck, he can't hate you up to this point. Just tell him you're going to miss him, you've nothing to lose_, lights 2 off, 1 on. _It can't just end like this._

It was a strong and open-heart self-plea, but it didn't work. All the confidence in the world didn't help her, and when the elevator slowed down Cuddy just stepped forward, disappointed with a herself. The cabin stopped and she held her breath, then jerked her chin up and stepped forward, just then realizing House was standing in the middle of the elevator, blocking her way out.

"I had to do this," he said then.

Completely appalled, Cuddy looked up at the back of his neck, as if his blue eyes were staring at her like it hadn't happened in a long time. She would have trade one of his penetrating glares with the lack of it in the blink of an eye, especially since his emotionless voice seemed to come from so far away.

"I couldn't…I had to do this."

She should have said something, it was her moment and Cuddy knew she should have seized the opportunity. But even if she'd been aching for a nod from him over the past weeks, she was then overwhelmed by his acknowledgement. Moreover, given what he had said and what he meant she could really do nothing.

Nothing but watch him step aside clearing the way. Her feet moved on their own and dragged her forward, Cuddy passed by him in a state of blurred daze, feeling her legs suddenly weak. She stepped out of the elevator and took a couple of steps, still too confused to react, and when she did it was once again too late.

All she could hear, missing to give him one last look, was a muffled, honest and unexpected "Thank you for letting me go."


	17. Chapter 17

_What's done it's done: House left PPTH and Cuddy did nothing about it._

_So, a new life begins_

* * *

17

The moment he rang the bell, Wilson called himself stupid. There was no way House could be up that early, not on Saturday morning. Chances were, he was so half asleep he'd failed to hear the phone, assuming it would have been on. Yet, to his surprise, the oncologist heard noises and movements coming from behind the door, rolling his eyes when he figured they were too soft and calm to be caused by the goofy grumbling bear kicked out of bed House usually was.

Sighing and shaking his head, Wilson folded his arms and stepped away from the door, clearing the way out for the hooker he thought would have come out. And he was left nothing but speechless when the door opened, and a massive woman appeared on the sole, an annoyed glare up on her face and an apron tug around her large hips.

"What?"

She- Wilson struggled to name what sort of sound that was, he was barely sure she'd actually said something: he couldn't even say if she was real. Taken aback, the oncologist opened his mouth but instead of talking he took a step back and checked the number near the door, wondering for one second of he hadn't gotten the wrong building.

"Is there-" he tried then, waving his hand in the air. "Is House there?"

The woman tilted her head on one side, glaring at him so suspiciously that Wilson was reminded of some grim guardian he'd once read about in Greek mythology. Then she folded her arms and became even more threatening.

"Who wants to know?" She grumbled.

_Who wants to know who wants to know?_ Wilson was about to ask, both as a joke and serious statement. But then he gave a better look at his opponent, those big hands and strong hairy forearms, and thought better not to.

"I'm Wilson, James Wilson," he said then, sounding nowhere near the Bond's alike speech. "I'm his friend, I drove all the way here from New Jers-"

"I didn't ask the story of your life," she cut him off abruptly, then added with her grumbling voice while walking away. "I'm gonna wake him up, you better be his friend for real," still utterly appalled Wilson took a step forward to get inside the place, but still walking away the woman raised her voice to warn him. "Didn't say you can come in."

Now absolutely clueless, Wilson stood where he was and followed her with his eyes, until she turned left escaping his sight. From the wide open door, he expected to hear her yell House's name to wake him up. Instead, all he got was silence and the disturbing feeling his friend might have set up some kind of stupid prank to celebrate their first weekend together since he'd left PPTH.

When Cerberus's wife came back the oncologist immediately straightened up, en guard, keeping his eyes on the not so light trace of disgust on her face. He was ready to be told to leave, or worse, yet at the very last moment she went right and entered the kitchen, grumbling a dismissive "he's coming".

Wilson unwarily sighed. relieved, glad to have been released of her disturbing presence. However, he didn't move from his spot fearing the consequences. More likely that woman was all act, but he didn't feel like testing her boundaries. Huffing, the oncologist sunk his hands in his pockets, absently looking around, then finally smiled when he heard the familiar rambling of a waking up House. Stumbling on things along the way House finally emerged from the end of the hallway, crumpled clothes on and sleepy face he tried to get rid of straddling it with both hands. Slowly he dragged himself to the door, yawning and scratching his stomach underneath his t-shirt, House reached the door and fought to keep his eyes open despite the bright morning light. It wasn't easy and it took him a while to make it, his blue eyes struggling to focus on the image of Wilson, and once he made it House rolled them up, then grumbled something and hastily reached one of his hands out. Taken aback, the oncologist could do really nothing when House's hand seized his wrist, pulling his hand out of his pocket and turning it to get a look at his watch.

"Holy shit Wilson!" House finally growled, releasing his hand and heading toward the kitchen. "I get you miss me, but for God's sake isn't a little bit too early?"

"It's 10 am House," the oncologist answered with a soft chuckle, knowing in House's language he'd been finally invited to come in. "It's not that early."

"It's my first free weekend, it's as early as I think it is," he shoot back drily as Wilson stepped in the kitchen, spotting House sitting at the table and the giant hanging around the stoves. "Seriously, I'm flattered but you could have waited a little longer."

"Or-" Wilson sighed taking one chair, waiting to sit down to have House's nod since the woman had mendaciously glared at him. "-you could have just gone to sleep a little earlier last night."

"Yeah…the crazy night life in Lex."

"Coffee"? The woman asked, monotone, and House nodded yes.

"Can I have a cup too, Mrs-"

Wilson's tentative request, also a gentle offer to be polite, was rudely cut off by the cup she slammed on the table. Already accustomed to her manners, Wilson didn't budge, yet watched her pour another cup and walk back to the table. Instead of trying to crash that one too, she gently placed it in front of House along with the newspaper and…what was that? A smile?

Speechless, the oncologist searched his friend's face for an explanation but House just shrugged careless, sipping his coffee and absently reading the first page. His dismissive reaction matched up with the woman's one, who went back to stubbornly ignore Wilson or glare and him whenever she could.

"So," Wilson said then, keeping a watchful eye on the woman, honestly afraid she might end up using the pan on his head instead of cooking breakfast. "Nice party last night?"

"No kidding," House stated with a tired voice. "Patient was a pain in the ass. I had to find the diagnosis not to lose the weekend."

"Aw House," Wilson mocked him. "I get you miss me but there's not need to rush your work."

"I didn't you idiot," he grumbled leaning back on the chair. "I have one and only job to do, all on my own. The deal is I get free weekends if my patient is cured by the end of the week."

"No other duty? What about clinic?"

"God bless Lexington, they don't have such a thing," House announced triumphantly, then smiling wide at the fuming plate of eggs and bacon the woman offered him ceremoniously, but then he frowned. "Hei, where's my pancake, you heartless maid?!"

Wilson almost lose the grip on the mug, he immediately looked at the woman, terrified she could pull out some Kathy Bates moves on his friend. Yet, to his major shock the woman delivered a shy feminine girly laugh, covering her mouth with one hand. Blushing a little and apologizing for her mistake, the woman urged to serve House the famous pancakes and a generous amount of chocolate syrup. Happy with what he had gained, House grabbed the fork and dug in, filling his mouth with food. Wilson realized with stupor the woman was standing there, watching him eat and waiting for a judgment on her food, and after a couple of more bites House just looked up at her and shrugged.

"Stop staring," he told her gruffly, then gave a small burp and waved his hand at her. "There's a bed to make. Go."

Adding surprise on surprise, the woman took off obediently and disappeared, and although Wilson felt calmer now that she was gone there was still uneasiness in the air. An atmosphere that, however, seemed to leave House untouched, being too busy cleaning the plate and leaving Wilson no chance but to ask the obvious.

"Nice bodyguard by the way," the oncologist huffed sipping his coffee. "Does she bite?"

"More like the barking type."

"And where did you get the totem?" He asked again.

"Kind of my mother's legacy," House explained chewing the last bite of food. "Dolores was here to help her, my mom hired her for 6 months and I couldn't get rid of her."

"I assume it wasn't for lack of trying."

"Damn no," House assured him, and it wasn't hard to believe for the oncologist. "I've been a pig for the first two weeks but she didn't cave. I told her I didn't want her here and she said my mom hired her, I offered to pay her to leave and she said she had already being paid and would never get money for free."

"Then you started to insult her."

"Wish I never did that," House admitted, blinking surprised as the thought still puzzled him. "Apparently she's one of those sick person who love to be treated like crap."

"Then you have…a passive aggressive maid with a fetishisms for her abusive boss?" Wilson asked, then clarified. "And with passive aggressive I mean passive with you and aggressive with everybody else?"

"I have no idea, you're the first "anybody else" she sees since I've been here."

That said, House went back to check the newspaper, that alone being strange since Wilson couldn't recall one single time he'd seen his friend read a newspaper. But his words have already done the damage, Wilson's brain was elaborating elaborated the message underneath them and when House sensed his silence and looked up from the paper he rolled his eyes.

"Don't panic, ok? I've been here for a month, had to get familiar with the new job and the environment, my aunt kidnaps me every time she can-"

"Ok ok, of course," the oncologist cut him off, trying to dismiss his own concern. "I was just asking, you know...new place, new habits…old ones to get rid of-"

"Geez Wilson! You've been here for 10 minutes and you're worrying already!" House blurted out, speaking so loud Wilson feared Dolores could storm in there and attack him, then House leaned forward on the table and looked straight at him "Am I fine? Am I not? These visits are supposed to be fun, macho rendez vous to hang around, you can't spend all your time here trying to figure out how I'm doing. I already have a shrink, you better decide what you want them to be…" he stood up to pour himself some more coffee "…I left to try something new and leave old things behind, how can I make it if you keep reminding me the way I used to be was wrong?"

Wilson had seen his friend so determined before, about one of his patient mainly, yet recently all the crap he'd been through had taught him how to direct that determination in a different way. But no matter the new course, House was still the one being always right no matter what and the oncologist had to admit it with himself. If he wanted to keep helping House, let alone enjoy their time together as friend were supposed to do, he couldn't be the ballast keeping him down.

"So," the oncologist finally said, giving House his best fake dumb "are we ready to hit the city tonight?"


	18. Chapter 18

18

Tires shrieked and slid on the wet street, snow had been falling generous and copious for the last couple of hours and getting there had been a dangerous nightmare. He had made it, eventually. From inside the car he looked at the big two floors manor across the street, then checked the address of his destination when he noticed the numerous cars parked nearby.

Huffing, House decided he didn't care about audience, he grabbed his beanie and tug it on his head, then picked up folder and cane and got out of the car. The cold air and the icy wind wrapped him furiously, House held the lapels of his coat closed with his left hand, holding cane and file with the right one, then limped to the door carefully watching his steps. Once at the door he knocked, but nobody came after a while. Frowning ,House looked at the lights on in all the windows of the ground floor, and since he couldn't ignore the voices and sounds coming from inside he insisted, knocking louder and ringing the bell too.

It worked, eventually. After a while the door opened, and an aged woman dressed as she was attending some event at Buckingham Palace stood in front of him. She studied him from tip to toe, the wide smile she had been giving her hosts until then quickly vanishing the moment she realized whoever he was, with that homeless look freezing on her porch, he was about to ruin her social event.

Him, and that folder he was holding with icy red fingers.

"I need Dr. Brown," House announced, although he had a feeling she didn't need that clarification, but the woman did look like she could use some further details. "Yes, it's important and no, it won't take long."

Mrs. Brown studied him for a while, extremely suspicious. House thought as the dean's wife she should have been accustomed to her husband's employees coming to their door for work issues, but then realized the fact he'd been used to the other way around for years didn't necessary mean that was how things worked worldwide. Then he played the pity card: if he couldn't get the woman to speed up for work's sake, he might manage to move her to comprehension. He smirked, faking pain, leaning heavily on his cane obviously telling her with a contrive face he wasn't thrilled to be standing there either.

"I'll call him," Mrs. Brown finally said, then gave him another look and added, not so convinced. "Wait inside."

Glad he could drag his ass inside, House did as told and stepped forward closing the door behind him, obediently waiting on the assigned spot. He had a feeling Mrs. Brown was not the kind of host you'd dared to disappoint, not to mention when his boss came out of the crowded dining room, he didn't look thrilled to see him either.

"I should have known it was you," Brown said while approaching adjusting the glasses on his nose.

"Why? You have mug shots of all your employees to warn her?"

"No. She said someone who looked like a hobo was asking for me."

"Nice," House smirked, then studied his fancy suit, the fashion handkerchief poking from the pocket of the jacket. "Although, almost everybody would look like a homeless compared to you."

"It's my wife's annual artist's party," Brown felt the need to justify himself, at the same time touching House's arm and pulling him away from the dining room. "And she'll let nobody ruin it."

"Good, then just sign this and I'll go."

Of course Brown didn't buy his quick and casual request, the way House handled him the folder was too confident and the dean was nothing but suspicious when he took it from his hand. Almost holding his breath House bit at his bottom lip as Brown opened the folder, studying all the elements through his glasses with a deep attention House had soon learned to hate. _Crap!_ He thought then when Brown, while still reading, fished in his pocket for his small cloth. A gesture House had come to known, and beware of.

"You drove all the way here with this snow to have me ok to this?" Brown finally said, closing the folder and handling it back to him. "I'm flattered, but you should have known since from the start it was useless."

"Nothing that can save a life is useless," House quickly chewed, shocking himself since he almost meant it.

"According to the folder, there's nothing you can do for her anymore."

"True, in fact she's not my patient anymore," House said drily, then looked around to avoid met his gaze as he explained. "It's too late to save her, she had multiple system damages and she's way past the point of no return. Whatever brought her to this point comes within the baby she's carrying, chances are he'll die even before coming out."

"Well he can't "come out" yet. It's just the 33th week."

"Lungs and heart of the fetus seem fine enough-"

"Which means you're wrong about the baby being the problem."

"Which means problem is somewhere else in the baby and I need to find it," Brown gave him a sceptical look, but House insisted. "And it also means even if we take him out now he's strong enough, we can sustain him as long as we need to find out what's killing him."

"It's a long shot," Brown muttered, but House could see a small window open and he needed to keep it like that.

"It's math," he said then, stepping forward. "We do nothing two lives go, we do something one might live."

"Might," the dean repeated.

"Better than nothing," House shrugged, hoping his careless attitude could hide how much he wanted that.

Brown studied him carefully, his eyes appeared harmless behind those glasses but House knew better. His dean was like an open book, not just compared to Cuddy but any other opponent he'd ever had, and Brown's transparency was his best weapon. There were no games with him, no challenges: he wasn't up to play in any shape of form, and House was nothing but destabilized by that lack of confrontation. It was, to his surprise, somewhat refreshing after years of constant battles about everything: but sometimes, when it came to get his job done, it became disturbing and frustrating.

"Point is," Brown said then, insisting in giving him back the folder. "It's not up to me, or you, to make this call."

"Patient can't give the consent, her decision would be conflicted anyway."

"Then the husband, or the father."

House liked Brown, he really did. Aside their first rough confrontation, the old guy inspired him sympathy or maybe who knew, right because of that he'd liked him since from the start. Yet, he still felt it: the thrill of victory growing as he sensed and swathe first crack appear on the surface, his boss grasping for a way out and pushing away from himself the bitter calyx. No, no matter position and circumstances, nobody liked to make that kind of call.

"Her husband died a couple of months ago, killed during a bank robbery," House informed him, seeing the way his boss's face almost paled. "There's no medical proxy, doctor decides…and doctor needs the boss's approval."

There it was, the seed of the doubts had been planted was fast flourishing. Brown had no way out, he knew better than trying to reason with House: try to fool him with that logic was nothing but a suicide, might as well hang himself. Math worked, there was nothing they could have done for the patient and however small, they couldn't miss the chance to save the kid.

"We're running out of time," House insisted, pressing ever so lightly, enough to push him a little further. "Mom would die anyway, we have a chance to save the kid-"

"For what for?"

The way Brown cut him off really shocked House, that was the first time the dean's voice came to his ears so dry and empty and the doctor didn't really know what to think. Was he being….cynic? Oh yes he was, hissing those few words through his teeth while hastily taking the folder back and searching his pocket for a pen. He found nothing, still grumbling Brown headed straight to a table nearby carrying the phone and some pens, he took one and dismissively signed the paper. Still puzzled, House watched his boss lave the signed folder there and gave it one last look adjusting the glasses on his nose, then Brown walked back in his direction. He did look like he had something to tell him, yet House was surprised to see his boss try to regain his composure before head back to the party.

House watched him with a deep attention, he looked nowhere near the usually calm and quiet grandpa style boss who could easily betray appearance, he'd never seen him pissed but he had to wonder that was how a pissed off Brown should look like. He waited for the dean to say something, even a simple, empty and untrue "keep me updated"…nothing but a hard stare not really softened by his friendly glasses.

He felt it was up to him then to say something, he could even pull out an honest "thank you" but truth was he'd been too taken aback by Brown's reaction. Even more, the way the old man was clearly fighting to keep control of himself left him speechless. And with that disturbing feeling to have just looked into an unpleasant mirror.

* * *

It was almost 2 am and he should have really gone home. Not that he could have done anything anyway…

Yet he was still there, lying on the couch in his office still wearing the scrub over his clothes, living in his mind the moment over and over again. Scrub was clean, immaculate, they haven't even had the chance to start the procedure…respiratory failure, heart had soon followed and before they could release the first charge on the mother someone smart enough had noticed it was the baby's heart crashing. Cut open, divaricates, take out the fetus, cut open again, paddles…he'd been screaming them to forget about the mom and focus on the baby, his hands still soapy and wet and a giant nurse keeping him in the lavatory.

Oh yes, they've listened to him but it was too late, and with dark and bitter irony son had gone before the mom, if only for a bunch of seconds.

Lying there in the dark, a bottle of bourbon on the ground next to him, House absently rubbed his right leg wondering why it didn't hurt as much as he's expected it too. Then he realized more likely it had something to do with the emptiness he felt inside him: he wasn't mad, he wasn't disappointed, he wasn't feeling anything…anything but failure.

Then someone knocked on the door and before House could answer Brown entered his office, standing in front of the couch still wearing his suit although tie was lost and the fancy handkerchief was gone. And it took House just one look at his boss to find sense, to make a reason out of that grumbled and disillused observation Brown had made a bunch of hours before.

Sighing, House held his gaze for a while and slowly sat up on the couch, then stood up and retrieved and couple of glasses from the drawer of his desk. Without saying a word he poured both glasses and handled one to Brown, then lifted his one in a toast gesture.

And when he swallowed the first sip House had no doubt Brown's victory drink for the lessons he had just taught him was as bitter as the one of loss he was tasting in his mouth.


	19. Chapter 19

19

When she parked the car in her spot, Cuddy thanked God for their underground parking: there was nothing she hated more than running in the rain, especially when she had no umbrella. Sighing, the dean turned off the engine, then checked her tired face with a smirk in the rear window and snorted before going out.

As she stepped outside she was welcomed by a cracking bolt cutting the sky, immediately followed by a roaring thunder. Cuddy could swear the ground quaked under her feet, that was one hell of a storm and despite being only 8 am, the sky was dark and grey as a tombstone. Creepy indeed, and while heading to the elevator she thought she totally understood Rachel's fear when she had left home.

She was still thinking about how much she wanted to be home with her daughter in that moment, holding her and soothing her fear, when she spotted Wilson near his car. He was at the trunk, fumbling with something inside it, Cuddy watched him for a while, wondering if he needed something, yet she hesitated to do anything. They were…she couldn't say they were on bad terms, but to deny things have been odd between them since House had left would have been an understandment. James Wilson wasn't the kind of man who could hold grudges, and blame was sure a hard word to use: yet, Cuddy have never tried to fool herself into thinking the oncologist didn't find her responsible for House's departure.

But they were friends, still, and he looked like he could use some help, especially when he took out of the trunk a small suitcase which opened up and spread all its content on the ground. Biting at her bottom lip Cuddy smiled at the scene, Wilson standing there with the now empty suitcase in one hand and a defeated expression on his face, then she moved and walked in his direction. At first, when he heard the steps and looked up Wilson froze, but then saw her shy smile and his belongings on the asphalt and sighed, shrugging at her with a smile of his own.

"My mom always used to warn me about rainy days," he said then once she approached him, then they both kneeled down to pick up his stuff.

"I used to like storms when I was a kid," Cuddy commented absently. "Now I can't enjoy them anymore, Rachel is too scared."

"I had a dog when I was 10, during storms like this he looked for any kind of hideout all over the house."

"Are you comparing my daughter to a dog?" She asked, Wilson looked up at her a little worried but then relaxed when saw her joking smile. "Yeah, she does pretty much the same actually."

The oncologist chuckled at her remark, then he picked up the suitcase and placed it open inside the trunk, trying to arrange the items the way they were. Cuddy watched and assisted silent, smiling at the care he put in folding the clothes and organize everything to maximize the space, realizing after a while how odd it was for her to stare at something that looked like a private ritual.

And with a shiver of terror her tongue moved without her brain's authorization.

"Looks like," she said, causally, the finale trigger being the L-World DVD set Wilson put inside the suitcase before he closed it. "You have a nice weekend ahead."

Wilson managed to take his time, he carefully closed the suitcase and then closed the trunk trying to figure out what her words really meant, what she really wanted from him. But a quick analysis made him realize he hadn't enough elements to determine that, and although part of him told him he shouldn't have, he decided to venture a little further and find out what Cuddy was up to, if she was.

"That's the plan," he admitted yet with the same casual voice, then he started to walk away and Cuddy followed.

"You're leaving today?"

"Don't worry, I've arranged everything with my assistants."

"Of course," she urged to say, scared as hell he might read in her question what wasn't there. "I know you always take care of everything."

"I'll be reachable on the phone anyway."

"Good," Cuddy said, way too enthusiast not to sound strange. "Good."

That was odd beyond reason, the only worst thing than odd silence was trying to fill it with awkward talk, and even if they knew that was what they were doing they couldn't help it. Wilson glanced at his boss, her arms folded protectively on her chest voicing her discomfort, and he knew his staring at her didn't help. But he couldn't avert his eyes from Cuddy in that moment: her sudden insecurity was such a news for him it was hard not to study her, especially since despite the evident struggle she seemed to be up to something.

"You're really taking advantages of these weekends," she muttered then as they reached the elevator.

"Never thought it was a problem," Wilson answered, a bit too harsh according to his own judgment.

"No, no, it's not a problem at all, I just-" frustrated, Cuddy closed her eyes and bit at her bottom lip as they entered the elevator, and she did her best to smile. "It's nice of Sam, giving you this opportunity."

"Well," the oncologist mumbled, suddenly shy and unease as much as she had been since from the start. "It's not like she cares…not anymore."

There was nothing but pure shock on Cuddy's face when she looked up at him. Wilson saw and felt her stupor, and the guilt for being unaware of that, but she couldn't know he shared part of that guilt. She was surprised indeed, probably more by the fact she had found out Sam had broken up with him that than by the news itself. And she immediately felt sorry for him.

"Wilson, I-I had no idea. I'm really sorry," she shook her head, still puzzled. "When did it-"

"A month ago, one and a half," he tossed casually, a sad smile on his face, which didn't help neither of them to feel any better.

"I don't understand…what happened?"

"Hard to tell," he admitted with a shrug. "I guess…all of sudden we just remembered why it didn't work the first time."

The elevator stopped and the door opened, Wilson stepped outside but Cuddy needed a couple of seconds to react and follow him, still too puzzled by the unexpected discovery. They both stood at the desk to sign in and get messages, the discomfort on Cuddy's face gone when, while browsing her mail, she found something that made her smile. Sensing her silence Wilson looked at her, taken aback by her sudden change, curios about her smile. Feeling his stare on her Cuddy gave him a shy look, then absently showed him a card.

"It's…yesterday was Rachel's birthday, nurses got her a wish card."

"Rachel's birthday?" The oncologist babbled, shocked. "Oh my God, time really flies, I-" he shook his head, frowning. "I totally forgot about it."

"It's….no problem Wilson, it's not a big deal."

"I'm gonna get her something when I'll be back on Monday."

"There's no need, really. Wilson you shouldn't-"

She didn't end the sentence, despite he didn't interrupt her. Cuddy's words just died on their own, swallowed by awkwardness along with Wilson's ones. That was stupid, beyond stupid, and dangerously close to become ridiculous. How have they ended up like that? Almost avoiding each other, giving up on communication, missing the most important things of each other's lives? Because of House? Yeah, kind of…but was it worth? He'd been gone for months, he had been the one leaving in order to move on, he had deprived them of his bulky presence and although he had done it for himself, he'd never told nor asked Wilson to resent Cuddy and cut interactions with her. Not that she was being mentioned in their conversations anyway, but all of sudden the oncologist could see how in every one of their weekends House had, in his way, being taking care of him as much as it wasn't the other way around.

House had gone to give himself a new life, but no one said the oncologist couldn't carry on his old one.

"Why don't we," he offered then, tentative and careful. "Maybe we can have lunch together."

"I have….I can't today," she answered, her voice sounding unsure just because she hadn't seen that invitation coming.

"Oh, ok," Wilson said, clearly disappointed and Cuddy felt horrible and quickly added touching his arm.

"Monday would be perfect," she said then, smiling at him. "I'll keep my schedule free, we can take our time. I mean, if you're ok with it."

"Yes," Wilson urged to say, glad the chance he thought he had blown was still there. "Monday is great."

They said nothing more, nothing important. Some minutes after, while going to his office, Wilson thought for the time in months weekend was not the only thing he was looking for.


	20. Chapter 20

_All this changing and moving on: how is it working out for House?_

* * *

20

It had taken it longer than what it had thought, but eventually…

New city, new job, new life. He had run away, but from some things you just can't hide.

He'd been surprised it had taken so long, and when he least expected it, but he'd been nothing but shocked it had come out of something like that. A night out in a bar, a couple of drinks, looking for a distraction from work and something to stimulate his mind. People offered him a wide range of observation, gestures, habits and attitudes he could study and dig in, guessing and wondering the reason which had lead them to happen right there and then, belated fruits of a long and complex growth.

Yet, he should have known: of all the places, his nightlife tour had brought him to a student bar nearby the college. God, since from the start it had been like going back in time, 20 years or something, in one single bite. Young people with life in their hands, thousands of doors waiting to open at a snap of their fingers, never-ending opportunities and no barriers. As if it hadn't been disgusting enough like that, things had gotten even worse the moment he'd realized they were med students. He had no doubt about it, he could smell them. They could try to pretend they were there to have fun, pull the plug from classes and procedures and rest their young learning brains: but the call of medicine, the power conquering the knowledge to defeat death was irresistible, too hard to ignore, and everywhere around him he could catch glimpse of familiar conversations.

Then the nostalgic trip down memory lane had been abruptly interrupted by a young girl, earning the not so prestigious award for the lamest approach ever.

"You're the famous Dr. House," she had teasingly, a rough tongue licking at her bottom lip, her deep cut cleavage too obvious about what kind of girl she was.

Staring at her, House had seized the grip around the glass. Motionless, he had looked beyond her shoulders spotting a curios audience studying the scene, then he had looked back at the girl, still giving him an obnoxious sultry smile. He had laughed at her, not just a chuckle but a loud spontaneous bursting laugh, right before leaving the bar. Hilarity hadn't last long; it had been with him on the drive back home, but once he had entered his place closing the door behind him his loneliness had taken the place of the previous feelings.

It had been months, so many things have happened since he had left Princeton, and even more the ones he had left behind. However, no matter all his efforts a Friday night, a drink and two damn well combined coincidences there he was. Sitting on the first step of the old squeaky stair heading down in the basement, a box in between his feet, a beer in his left hand and a photo in the right one.

How had he ended up there, he'd never known. But he soon figured out he couldn't let it last, and with a huge effort he let the photo go and drop on the box again. Carefully, with a small groan he helped himself up and stood up, abandoning the box on the steps along with the memories it represented. He closed the door of the basement and limped to the living room, grabbing an Ibuprofen on his way there.

Before getting to the couch he picked up the guitar and sat down, his fingers brushing the chords as he closed his eyes, waiting for his mind to find the music he wanted to play. But his brain betrayed him, he tried to blame the alcohol but House knew all too well the memory was one bitchy muscle to arouse, and could easily end up biting you in the ass. As his fingers randomly surfed the strings his mind did the same, drifting away not in time but space, travelling from Kentucky to New Jersey, wondering.

What was Wilson doing? That was easy: knowing him the oncologist was probably busy with his luggage, getting ready to come over for the weekend. As the invisible music went on, a gipsy Jewish melody on which he could see Wilson literally dancing around his room. A smile came up to House's lips, picturing the oncologist debating with himself on which clothes bring along, making a big deal out of it. If he tried hard, House could even see the inevitable preoccupation on the oncologist's face as he wondered how House was doing, asking himself if it wasn't the case to shake things up a little. House had no doubt Wilson died to ask him to come back at Princeton, to switch weekends for one time, with no particular reason. However, he was grateful for whatever was preventing the oncologist to ask, since he wasn't sure of what his answer might have been.

Wilson, his anchor. No, no doubt about what he was up to and as his fingers pinched one of the string, producing a shrieking sound. House couldn't tell how that certainty should have made him feel. It was a safe yet odd thought: knowing someone up to that point made him feel steady, but it could also get easily boring. He didn't like boring, whether it was about himself or someone else Gregory House didn't like predictability and his mind, double busy with music and thinking, easily slid on Foreman.

The guy came pretty close to Wilson in terms of lack of originality, mainly because in House's opinion the neurologist felt somewhat committed to be the way he was, the one he showed. What could have been up to on Friday night someone like him, someone who had spent half of his life trying not to be someone else? His older brother, the criminal: then his boss, the cranky doctor… House had always thought it must have been exhausting, other than stupid, invest so many energy in not being someone, while being himself was for free. Yet he could almost see him, the sombre and flat melody coming from the guitar the perfect OST: alone in that post-modern flat he had probably bought already furnished, playing videogames but constantly glancing at his cell phone waiting, hoping, for a call from work. When he had convinced Cuddy to leave him in charge of the diagnostic department, Foreman had probably thought he had signed for an exciting life 24/7 on call. But he probably didn't know what House did: that the team was so stacked thrilling emergencies weren't that frequent after all.

But they needed a leader, no matter what, someone willing to take charge. House had wondered why, despite being the one hired first, Chase had never really claimed the role. He didn't lack leadership, he sure didn't lack skills, yet…but after all, wasn't that what House saw of himself in him? Avoid responsibilities as long as you can, keep any kind of involvement at a safety arm length, unless it's really necessary. It was a light approach to life his music translated into a careless silly combination of notes. That was why Chase was probably out there in that moment, somewhere in a bar showing off his blonde hair, cute figure and exotic accent. House suspected the Aussie didn't even know what he was trying to cope for with his parade of women and meaningless sex, if it was to forget his wife dumping him or to erase what had leaded to that.

Taub, he still had a wife unlike Chase, but for how long? Did he love her? House had no doubt about that, the music his fingers were playing switched to a faster pace as he thought of him: the way he seemed to jump from one thing to the other, women and roles switching from devote husband trying to save his marriage to busy stud, mirrored by the random pinches at the strings. Who knew, was that one of those nights he was home doing what he had to in order to keep his marriage together, or was he in someone else's bed planting yet another nail in the coffin? House honestly cheered for him. The thing he admired the most of the pocket doctor, was the one Taub was screwing himself with. His nature. Taub couldn't deny it, and although he had tried to fight it, House felt he coulnd't win that battle, Taub knew it too, and it was just a matter of time before he came to terms with. You can't fight who you are, the way you are…

And you can't fight destiny either, especially when it knocks at your door with a lethal genetic disease. 13 knew it, since when she had been inevitably forced to face the truth. Yes, she could probably try to wipe it away with drinks and God knew what else, but it would have only been one day closer to the end. Music came on its own for 13, a slow and grave rithym filled with a decent sound, House's homage to a choice he felt like sharing. The fact you don't like where your journey ends, doesn't mean you can't enjoy it, making the best out of it. He'd liked 13 since from the start, she was intriguing and he had liked the fact she was a genuine enigma, not just an act to impress him. And he liked her because she knew what it felt like: pain, lack of control on a body that becomes a heavy cage you can't master anymore.

Wilson, Foreman, Chase, Taub, 13….his friends, his life. People who had been worried about him, pissed. People who have cried for him, or because of him. People he had insulted and helped, who have helped him back, people who cared and knew him well enough to know showing concern wasn't the case.

People he missed. Like her.

He suddenly found himself in a dead end, and it all shut down, his mind surfing in thoughts and memories and his fingers sailing the strings. He had no music for her, no guess or suggestion about what she might have been up to. He simply didn't want to think of her: he knew if he'd gotten the chance to see it, to look in her window like he'd just done with everybody else, what he'd seen would have still hurt, after so many months.

The fitting music for that, to match the way he felt…he couldn't play that music. No instruments on earth could have. Music like the one his heart was playing was not supposed to be played at all.


	21. Chapter 21

21

At the fourth ring of the phone, however grumbling and cursing, House hastily stood up from the couch. He grabbed his cane and limped across the room to reach the phone, with heavy and quick steps, then he picked up the receiver.

"It better not to be you Wilson," he growled with no hesitation. "I told you not to call on Thursday night."

"_If you'd answered one of the 10 calls I left on your cell phone, I wouldn't have broken the holy rule,"_ the oncologist answered without missing a bit. House almost smiled for his quick comeback, but Wilson decided to ruin everything with the following sentence. _"You're a doctor House, a head of department...aren't you supposed to be always on call?"_

"Only on the Bat-phone," he grumbled again, then checked his watch. "Can you make this short and sweet, whatever it is? Hell's Kitchen finale is about to start."

"_Yes, I-Hell's kitchen?"_ The oncologist shouted out in blunt shock. _"You watch that crap?"_

"That guy gets paid to go on TV and insult people, he's my hero," House confessed, so enthusiastically Wilson had to think he was serious about it. "And he always comes up with coloured and elaborate insults, I have to take notes. He should write swearing book instead of cooking ones."

"_I can't believe of all the stupid shows running on TV you chose that one, and not to make fun of it."_

"Said the guy who cried when his favourite contestant got kicked out of DWTS."

"_She gave up on everything to follow her dream, and she had an awesome talent-" _

House could almost see it, his friend getting all fired up while defending some wannabe dancer, then stopping and huffing when he realized how stupid that conversation had become all of sudden. Not to mention, it was dragging them far away from the purpose of that call, something that House could easily sense by the abrupt silence of his friend.

"I guess you didn't call to get insulted about your TV taste," House pointed out then with a serious voice.

"_You're right, it's not because of that."_

"Then stop lurking around it and spill the guts. It must be something that can't wait until tomorrow, when you're supposed to come here."

"_I'm not coming over this weekend House."_

"Yeah, kind of figured that out. And you're not because of the reason you called. So stop dragging and spit it out," House grabbed the remote and put the TV on mute, sighing on the phone. "I'm all ears."

And Wilson took plain advantage of that.

He told House everything and exaggerated nothing, the miles between them and the artificial filter of the wire couldn't prevent House from sensing any trace of lie. The oncologist had known, even before making the call, if he'd tried to build up a story and paint things worse than how they were, House would have smelled it like a hunt dog. He couldn't take the risk, not to mention the situation didn't need to be more tragically presented.

While listening to him House went back to the couch, moving as slow as he had previously moved fast to stand up, Wilson's words settling down in his mind carefully as he had sat down. House felt his head spin at some point but blamed…well, he really had nothing to blame for the way he felt, for the vague sense of nausea and the sudden pain pumping in his right leg. It was like…he'd been drug free for almost two years, yet he did remember how an overdose felt like: although what he was assuming on high dosage wasn't Vicodin or any other drug, but just an outrageous amount of all the things he had secured behind an armored door for months.

Feelings, memories, nightmare and dreams, troubles...all of that and even more was unleashed on him through Wilson's story. How much the oncologist was aware of what that was doing to him, House couldn't tell. But the more the oncologist ventured in his report, the more House thought his friend had known it would have had some kind of effect on him, otherwise he wouldn't have waited that long to call.

"_That's all,"_ Wilson said, eventually coming to an end.

"You said it as if it was a little "all"," House observed absently with a moan.

"_Trust me House, it wasn't…it's not easy. For anybody,"_ House didn't doubt that. He had dozens of things he'd liked to know and ask yet held them all back, leaving up to Wilson to take the next step, although the oncologist seemed to be quite clueless and could do nothing but throw House the easiest and more predictable sentence ever. _"Will you come?"_

The mother of all questions, indeed.

Would he? Should he? Did he want to?

Too many things to answer to, to many responses to provide digging into himself: too much time had gone by since he'd left, yet it seemed nothing facing Wilson's words. Too many questions for a single man, too abruptly unleashed on him when his guards were down, too big the consequences on the line.

Too many incognita and variables, really way too much for him to bear on his own, but there was one thing he was sure of.

He didn't need that.

Without even noticing House laid down on the couch, staring at the ceiling while his hand absently massaged his right thigh, although he didn't feel any pain. Despite he felt his own being shaken down to the basement, House kept a slow and regular breathe, pondering, making Wilson believe he might have fallen asleep.

But he wasn't, not even by chance.

"The show is about to start," House said then flatly. "I'll call you back."

"_I'll call you back."_

* * *

"House-"

Wilson tried but it was useless, he could only utter his friend's name and the moment after he was staring at the phone, the free line sound echoing painfully from the receiver. Why was he surprised, the oncologist couldn't tell: not like he had expected House to enthusiastically jump in, but his lack of reaction really puzzled him.

Sighing, Wilson put down the phone and stared at it for a while, thinking it had never looked so big compared to the desk. He stood up and put the cell phone in his pocket hoping he would have needed it, then left his office and went to the elevator to reach the third floor. It was almost 8 pm and the hospital seemed desert, but he had honestly nothing to complain about given the circumstances.

Alone with his thoughts, heavy and sombre, Wilson realized with a shiver he had no clue what to expect from House. And when he stood in the hallway, looking at Cuddy through the glass walls, he wished he could. She was curled up on the bed, her tired and hurt face a nauseating contrast with the soft and cheery atmosphere the room of pediatric department desperately tried to create. She was exactly how he had left her: glued to the bed, holding Rachel's little hand for her dear life, with a desperate need to give the girl the strength she needed. How could she made it with such a dignity, Wilson didn't know, and didn't want to. But he could do something to ease her pain.

He had already did actually, but the ball wasn't in his court anymore.

"Did you call House?" Foreman asked in a low voice while stepping at his side. Wilson didn't look at him but still gave the neurologist a small nod. "What did he say?"

Of course he had to ask. Foreman might have been the one there but Wilson knew he was voicing out what the whole former-team wanted to know. They've tried their best, and their best wasn't exactly a poor one, but they needed more. Not just because it was Cuddy's daughter and they've walked on egg shell since from the very first moment, but because they were rambling in a sea of symptoms and could use the help of someone like House.

The oncologist knew for sure they knew nothing about the whole House/Cuddy situation, whatever it was and if there was any, but they weren't that naïve to think House's departure had nothing to do with it. There had to be something, something had happened, and whatever it was had prevented Cuddy from calling the cavalry sooner. Rachel had been sick for almost a week: being the one who had not only hired House, but constantly watched his back through the years, Cuddy should know better than anybody else how valuable House was as a doctor. Yet, he seemed to be have been the very last resort.

No, no wonder Foreman was so serious about it. Wilson really wished he could have give him something more than the honest yet painful

"He'll let me know."

he uttered in a whisper.

* * *

There was no way in hell he could sleep, not with the thousands of thoughts hunting his mind after that phone call. The conversation had affected everything that had come after, everything he had hear and said, did or seen.

When the phone rang in the middle of the night it found him not only awake, but plain vigil. Right after the first ring Wilson jumped sitting on the bed and slammed his hand on the nightstand, grabbing the phone. Yet he didn't answer, not straightway, for some reason trying not to show House how truly desperate he was. But he was, they all were, and that was kind of the point.

Taking a deep breath, Wilson squeezed the phone in his hands then flipped it open, but didn't say anything and waited for House to find the approach he liked the most.

The straight one.

"_I'll be there tomorrow,"_ House said, with the same flat tone of the last time he had spoken. _"Find me a motel."_


	22. Chapter 22

_Ready for House't return to PPTH?_

* * *

22

"Can you please throw that away?" 13 grumbled with a hint of hate, glaring at Taub standing nervously a few steps away from her, then she frowned. "And since when do you smoke anyway?"

"I-I…I-" apparently clueless, the doctor looked around facing his co-workers and the smoking cigarette oddly trapped in his fingers. "I don't!" He growled then, hastily tossing the cigarette on the ground and squashing it with his foot. "I'm just…guys, aren't you nervous?"

"Yes," Chase admitted with a shrug. "But it's not a good reason to poison myself."

"Or-" Foreman muttered, slowly kneeling down to pick up the dead cigarette and handling it back to Taub "-to litter all over the place."

Feeling ashamed, Taub took the cigarette and walked to the closest trash bin, then sighed while whipping his hands on his lab coat.

"Seriously," he said then, sounding defeated. "How can you be so calm?"

"We're not. It's just-" 13 quickly checked on Foreman and Chase's face, then shrugged. "There's really nothing we can do about this other than wait."

"If anything…well, to be honest after the last days this is actually a dose of fresh air. Much needed fresh air."

Everybody silently agreed with Foreman. Since from when they've been asked, or ordered according to someone, to take care of Cuddy's daughter none of them have had a moment of peace. Too much tension, too many doubts and fears…no wonder, compared to that unnerving experience, the tension to see House again was nothing but a pleasant breeze. But while they were expecting the so called breeze to come as a tickling sensation on their face, they couldn't know what they were about to get was a cold blown of air right in their butts. More or less about the time Taub was abandoning his not so long lasting unhealthy vice, Wilson was driving his car to the hospital's entrance and had been roughly forced by House to head to sub parking instead. The oncologist hadn't been surprised, House might have been scared by the little welcome committee waiting for him.

House's reluctance about the public display of affection actually gave Wilson a weird sense of familiarity, something they all needed. And when he saw the teasing smile on his friend's face as they came out of the elevator, when he could feel the electricity coming from him as he watched his former team waiting outside, like a hungry leopard browsing his option in terms of which antelope bite first, for a moment Wilson forgot all his fears about House being back at PPTH under those particular circumstances.

Then House reached the door, he swung it open from inside hitting Chase, and his former fellows looked at him like he'd just performed the best magic trick ever.

"I'm hungry," he announced, grinning as he savoured the moment and the look on their faces, then he nodded backwards at the oncologist still standing inside. "Wilson booked me a crappy motel, I skipped breakfast."

Just another quick look, the last he needed to tell them the game was on for good, then he let go the door and walked back inside. He took a couple of steps before he could sense them following him, in that familiar way he felt he'd never lost memory of. A smile came up on his face as he passed by Wilson, who grinned back, then House took a deep breath as he resolutely took the way to the cafeteria.

"So, we have a sick kid," he said out loud as he entered the cafeteria, a bunch of curios and surprised eyes immediately landing on him as he took a seat. "Tell me about it."

"You don't want-" Foreman babbled, he'd recover from the initial surprise but he felt the whole situation a bit contrived. "Don't you think we should discuss this in private?"

By "private", the neurologist of course meant not where everybody was watching and could listen, not to mention they could really use some privacy. It had been months since the last time they've dealt with House, let alone ddxing with him, and they didn't want to find out the mechanism was irremediably rusted in front of witnesses and with such an important case. But House seemed determined to keep on his way, whether it was to deflect and fight back the way being there again made him feel, or because he was eager to get to the point.

"Why?" He asked careless, then leaned down on the table, looking around suddenly suspicious. "Is that a secret the boss's kid is sick?"

"N-no, it's just-" Taub muttered, a little bit confused. "We just-"

"Good. Then," House looked over at Wilson with a clear nod. "You get me breakfast, and you," he pointed at his fellows, gesturing them to sit down, "tell me all about it."

If Wilson left just because he didn't need any update on Rachel's condition, or because he knew House needed him not to be there, they couldn't know. Yet they waited for the oncologist to leave, still grumbling something about being back on paying House's food.

"Ok, who goes first?" House asked again once they were all seated. "Don't tell me you forgot how it works."

"We admitted her 4 days ago," 13 finally said, chewing the words since it was honestly hard to tell for her who had made that decision back then "But Cuddy told us she'd been sick for a couple of weeks already."

"Yeah, the brat is sick. Wilson told me," House cut her off. "Care to share some details now?"

"It started off with a cough. It came and go for a while and she finally took Rachel to the paediatrician when she showed chest pain."

"Such as?"

"The kind a 2 years old kid can tell you about," Taub grumbled, House sensed his frustration but knew it wasn't about him. "She said her tummy hurt, Cuddy and Dr. Aku determined it was chest pain instead."

"Masses? Did they find anything?"

"No palpable masses, no swollen linphonodes either."

"Hei hei, don't rush it," House backed off as Chase jumped in adding new information to the plate. "I still haven't got my coffee, beside no way Cuddy would have let the kid cough her soul out for two weeks before going for a specialist. They must have lingered on something for a while."

"Pneumonia," Wilson announced as he came to the table, handling House a cup of coffee and a couple of chocolate donuts. "Dr. Aku prescribed her the meds but it didn't work, then the abdominal pain came into the picture."

"And nausea," Taub added, he waited for House to ask something but he seemed bus with his breakfast and so he went on his own. "We already ran the basics tests, explored all the baby's illness combination and the rare variables but nothing fits so far."

"Truth is…I mean, cough, abdominal pain, nausea," 13 sighed shaking her head. "Chances are they're not even related, nothing matches."

"Yet, at least," Foreman offered. "So far she has no fever, we haven't explored infection yet. We also studied the biological mother's old file, looking for some underneath genetic condition but we found nothing."

"Let me get this straight," House cut him off, also preventing anybody from adding anything with his loud open mouth chewing. "The only thing we know for sure right now is that it's not pneumonia?"

It shouldn't have been like that, they shouldn't have felt like that yet- It had been what? 15 minutes, 20? Yet it was back, feeling inadequate, being jerked around and mocked having their skills and confidence as doctors questioned and doubted, facing the ugly truth they were missing something…

God that felt good!

For them, who felt less clueless and impotent about Cuddy's daughter. For Wilson, who had waited and worried for that moment over the last 24 hours or so. For House, who was facing an old style puzzle and already feeling his mind tickling.

Now, all they had to hope was for that to work in every possible way till the very end.


	23. Chapter 23

23

He'd been wandering around for a couple of hours, curious.

People looking at him, staring at the "special guest" and prodigal son, had bothered him for a while. However, it had gotten better soon, maybe because they knew he was coming. A hospital is the least place on heart when it comes to keep a secret, not to mention being something that involved the boss, there was no way people wouldn't have been affected by it. He was the news of the day, House could smell it at every turn he took in the hallways, sense it at every gaze he met and hear it in crumbles of conversation he caught passing by.

But that was quickly fading too, the echo of his return was slowly extinguishing in between the glass walls of PPTH, although leaving place to rumours about whether his presence there would have helped Cuddy or not. House had been used to that, being watched and looked at with mistrust, a feeling that had never disturbed him over the years and with which he had lost familiarity since his departure. Now that it was coming back, he wasn't sure how that was supposed to make him feel.

Standing by himself on top of the hospital's roof, wrapped by the wind, by the time the fresh air numbed his cheeks House came to the conclusion it didn't matter after all. He wasn't there to be liked or disliked, appreciated or criticized: he was a doctor and he was there to do his job.

That was why they've kept going with the ddx for a while, ruling out the little they could with the few elements they had, and building up even less hypothesis to work on. Yet, the team looked relieved to have some lead to follow. He still had to wrap his mind about it, they had so few elements it was hard to tell his intervention was indeed needed. Maybe the kid was just "normally" sick, but he was no fool: and neither were Wilson and his team, not to mention Cuddy. If she had called him-if she'd told Wilson to call him, it could hardly be for a mere whim. However, he was still struggling to set his mind on the right gear, he still had to figure out what case his mind really had to focus on.

"There you are," Wilson's voice spiked up from behind him, but House barely turned to glance at his friend. "Team is looking for you."

"They could have paged me," House grumbled, then scoffed a laugh to himself. "Oh no wait, they can't…because they're not my team anymore."

"Yeah, right. How do you want me to call it?" The oncologist asked approaching him. "The bunch of talented doctors hanging around in the dark?"

"Well you know…they do have names."

Despite everything, Wilson chuckled softly but held back the observation he really was the last person on heart who could have make that kind of statement. He stepped at House's side, glaring at his friend staring at the panorama, curious about what was going on through his mind, but House seemed to precede him.

"Nobody really thought it would have been easy, right?" House said then, and Wilson could do nothing but nod in agreement.

"The guys came up with something, they're waiting for you in the conference room."

"I need a coffee, and something to eat," House said, then took off to the stairs. "Gather the troops."

He could have been more obvious only with a "yes I'm deflecting" sign on, but Wilson knew better not to push his buttons. After all, House was there to do one ad one thing only, what he did best. And since how and where he did it had never been an issue, that was sure nothing to whine about. As House carefully made his way down the steps the oncologist pulled out his cell phone and informed Foreman of the meeting location, then they both took the elevator sharing the space with a female doctor who stared at him from tip to toe, wondering if he was real or just a dream. Wilson thought about say something to ease the tension, or maybe even tell her to stop looking at House like a ghost, but then he gave his friend a quick glance and was left appalled by the calm spreading from him, and decided to drop it.

The elevator left them at the ground floor, they stepped outside and immediately found the team gathered around the acceptation desk.

"Where have you been?" Chase asked, curious.

"Out for a walk," House shoot back casually. "Something new?"

"Not really, but we-"

"Then I need something to eat," he cut Taub off, heading to the cafeteria. "Useless conversations sound better with a full stomach."

"You had lunch 3 hours ago."

"Don't remind me! It took me months to detox from this food," he whined shaking his head, sighing disconsolate. "All gone with a couple of meals."

There was a quick exchange of gazes and eyes rolled, but also smirks and smiles brought up but the pleasure to hear him joke. It had been a while, but they still knew House very well. He was clearly avoiding any straight approach, for some reason, and if what they had to do to get over the obstacle was let him put some weight on they had no problem about it.

"So," House huffed as they all lined up behind him. "Nothing new, yet you called me. I'm flattered you miss that much."

"We've been thinking about the symptoms, they all seem to be of gastrointestinal nature."

"And it's getting harder and harder to feed her. Nausea is killing her appetite, if it doesn't get better we might need to feed her artificially."

"Sorry to interrupt," Wilson jumped in after 13 and Foreman, worried at the speed with which House's tray was filling up. "Do you need me for something here?" The team looked at him, puzzled, then they shook their heads and he sighed relived patting Foreman's shoulder right before leaving. "Good luck."

The oncologist quickly left, leaving House grinning from ear to ear as he reached the cash. Once there he absently patted his pockets, giving the cashier a puppy eyes look before looking over at the team.

"Sorry, left the wallet at the motel," then he looked back at the cashier. "They're with me."

He went straight for a table, watching his former fellows put together the money, then he gave his sandwich the first bite as they joined him.

"Blame Wilson," he pointed out, careless of their glares, then shrugged. "The runaway coward said you came up with something."

"Abdominal pain, nausea, lack of appetite. Putting cough aside for now, they can all be related to alimentation."

"We can't really take a symptom out of the picture just because we don't like it," House retorted to Taub.

"Cough is being getting better, there's a chance it's not related to the other symptoms anyway."

"Or that it was a pre-existing condition about to go away."

"If you have a point you better get to it," House grumbled rolling some fries in the ketchup. "You're running around it, and with really lame argument to be honest. I'm disappointed, I taught you better than this."

"We believe it might be an allergy or intoxication, either way due to her alimentation," Chase finally spilled the guts. "She's been eating less and less, yet she throws up."

"Throw up like The Exorcist or something classier?"

"Just…vomiting," Taub explained, and House gave them a thoughtful nod.

"Thought you said there was nothing new," he stared at them for a while, then frowned suspicious. "Ok, who are you and what did you do to my team?"

"It's vomit House, in a sick kid," Foreman sighed exasperated. "It's normal."

"It would be if you hadn't come up with the alimentary issue," he observed serious, then leaned back on the chair thoughtful. "It might fit, you should run allergy test."

"And speak with Cuddy," Foreman added. "We need to know about Rachel's food habits at home, what she usually eats and if there have been significant changes."

"Kids her age are highly sensible to diet variation and food. If she had something she's allergic to for the first time Cuddy wouldn't have known."

"Isn't it a little bit too sudden and violent as allergic reaction?"

"Not really, we still don't know the cause so it might be," Taub answered 13's question, however addressed to Chase. "And it can also be food poisoning, which would fit even better."

"Yes, but we need to talk to Cuddy. She's the only one who can give us this kind of information."

"There's no need to bother her."

They all turned to look at House, taken aback by his sudden intervention and the flat tone of his voice. Even more surprised when, despite his calm, he stood up quickly, almost jumping on his feet. House felt their eyes stare at him and knew very well what they were thinking, or at least guess what they were wondering, so he fought their gazes trying to collect himself.

"She's a control freak, she'd probably cultivate her own veggies if she could," he smirked, hoping to get some complicity from them, then shook his head thoughtful. "I'm sure she already thought of it on her own."

"Then what do we do?"

"Run the allergy tests as a start, peanut butter test and schedule her diet," he instructed, then picked up his unfinished sandwich leaving the rest on the tray as he walked way. "I'm not here to deal with a paranoid mom."

And by the bitter tone of his voice, it became clear for all of them that would have been as difficult as they've thought after all.


	24. Chapter 24

24

"Long day, uh?"

"It flew by," House grumbled, answering Wilson's casual question.

They reached Wilson's car in the underground parking. It was early evening and the place was crowded of vehicles due to the shifts change, but at least his working day was over. Well, of course "working" was quite an odd word to use since he wasn't being paid for it, but after all… He'd eaten food Wilson had paid for, he'd been escaping the team and his responsibilities the entire day: aside from avoiding clinic duty, everything fit with the pattern of the old days.

"Tired?"

Including a James Wilson in full caring mode.

"I barely did something today, I just walked around and ate," he shoot back drily as they entered the car, then he sat on the passenger seat and huffed. "Hell yes, I'm floored."

"It's understandable, I guess."

"Why? Because it was my first day "back", and I was supposed to be overwhelmed by memories and feelings, haunted by the demons of my past here?"

Waiting for the bar to raise and let them out of the building, Wilson took the chance to look at his friend who stared back, an annoyed expression on his face. The oncologist held his gaze for a while, fighting back a smile before shrugging casually.

"I just thought your leg would be a little sore, you've been walking around the hospital for hours," House's jaw clenched and the oncologist smirked as he looked in front of him and hit the street. "But since you mentioned, how was it? Being back?"

"I'm not back," House pointed out gruffly, averting his eyes from Wilson to look out of the window. "I'm a doctor, I've been asked for a consult. That's what I'm here to do, nothing more."

"Someone is a bit defensive-"

"And someone else is about to test the efficiency of his airbag," House threatened, motioning to slam his cane on the steering wheel and activate the safety device.

"You know House, there's no need to deflect about this. Really, don't worry about it."

"Glad to see you got the message."

"Of course," the oncologist huffed again giving his words a fierce nod, then went on shamelessly teasingly. "The fact that you're staying in a motel already says it all."

House chose silence to take and absorb his friend's hint: he didn't see any point in defending his accommodation, he didn't even feel like he had to. It was a reasonable choice, a place near the hospital where to stay for some days. If he'd wanted, he could have given Wilson dozens of good reasons and explanations…yet he feared the moment his friend would have asked, knowing none of his so called reason was good enough.

"It's a motel, 10 minute's drive to the hospital," House explained casually, but he already knew the conversation had taken a dangerous path.

"So it's my loft," the oncologist immediately pointed out, shrugging at House's glare. "You could have saved some money and gained some company."

"I have enough of one maid and my aunt babysitting me, thanks," he shoot back, then realized bitter bits of sarcasm weren't a good strategy.

Wilson was out for blood, which in that case meant out for how he was really feeling about being back. House knew if he wanted to side-track the oncologist, he had to give him something, a harmless bone to chew. Sighing he fidgeted on the seat, the leather shrieking under his butt, and when he was sure Wilson was looking at him House folded his arms resting his forehead on the window.

"I'm fine," he said then in a low voice. "I just need…to take this slow, one step at the time."

It was supposed to be a lie, a little white one to gain some release, but House was shocked to feel how true his own words sounded. The second part at least: he did have some doubts about the "being fine" one, and when the shape of his motel appeared on sight he was puzzled to find out he'd been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't even noticed.

"Are you sure you don't want to go somewhere to eat something?" Wilson asked when the car stopped in front of his room.

"Thought you said you didn't want to pay for my food anymore," House chuckled teasingly, then he stepped out of the car and leaned down on the open window, patting his backpack. "I sacked the vending machines, I'll survive until breakfast."

"I assume you didn't pay for any of it," the oncologist guessed, finding his confirmation in House's grin, then he shook his head. "Good night House. I'll pick you up tomorrow."

"Not too soon," he said out loud as the car left, knowing already his friend would have been there outrageously soon.

Sighing, House made his slow way to the room and stepped in, he turned on the lights and smirked at the anonym furniture landing his eyes on the bed. Big, large king size bed, soft and comfortable, he judged, however he hadn't had the chance to try it yet. He'd flown there in the morning, Wilson had picked him up and they've stopped at the motel just the time to register and drop his poor luggage, and that was basically the first time he saw his accommodation. Despite the unknown bed looking inviting, House knew it would have had to wait. He had the feeling he would have passed out as soon as he'd touched the mattress, and he desperately needed to shower before do anything else. He was pleased to find out not only there was a bathtub in the bathroom, but that it was also as big as the bed, and while he set the bath and got undressed he took his time to call Aunt Sarah. Not that he felt like to, but Sarah had watched him walking across the airport gates as if he was going to war - and maybe somehow he was - and he knew he'd better anticipate an anxious call from her.

Once he'd taken care of that, short and sweet, he easily plunged himself in the hot water and killed in one sip the tiny bottle of vodka he'd taken from the fridge. As soon as the first gentle touch of water washed away the surface House felt it, the pulsing pain in his leg and the headache clocking like a gong in between his temples. He guessed it had been there since from when he'd seen PPTH, the same he had forced himself to ignore throughout the day. He hadn't lied to Wilson about that at least, a hospital marathon wasn't exactly a smart thing to do for a cripple not to mention, in order to gain some breaks, he'd eaten so much when the oncologist had mentioned food he'd been about to throw up.

Grinding his teeth House pulled himself up, dripping water and soap he limped to the fridge and grabbed all the tiny bottles, then went back to the bathtub. Of course there was no food in his back pack, he thought if he could have looked at his stomach he'd found a "out of order" sign on it, but damn he could use a drink! His right hand disappeared under the water and found his leg, he started to rub the irregular surface of his scar to release his sore and tired muscles, while with the left one he swirled open the cap of a bottle and took a sip from it, thinking.

He was back, he could jerk around Wilson with semantic as much as he wanted, but he was. It was strange, hard…messy mostly. Yet, with the thousands of things he could have thought of, his mind drifted on one major rail. Abdominal pain, nausea, vomit…a pretty nice picture, a possible match with food allergy or poisoning, if it hadn't been for the starting point being cough. Cough meant lungs, which of course explained very well why Cuddy had thought of pneumonia, and he had to wonder how it should have been like for her: clinging on a theory, a safe one, only to see it chewed and spit out, rejected by the truth-

A sudden burning arrow of pain digging in his flesh was a strong warning, an effective reminder of a double-edged sword he had wished he could evade. He'd deluded himself about that the entire day: since from Wilson's call he had told himself he could do it the easy way, taking Rachel's case without getting the mom involved. Threating a PPTH's patient without having to deal with family, like he used to do…but Rachel wasn't just a kid. She was PPTH's boss daughter, and sooner or later-

He had made all his calculation, over and over again, but apparently he sucked at math. Because not only he couldn't obviously take the case without being forced to deal with Cuddy, but he couldn't even focus on it without thinking about her.

And it hurt. His leg, first of all, his heart too despite all the months in between. His head, since he couldn't picture a way out; his pride, since he'd let himself fall into the trap. He couldn't go on like that, Rachel was sick and if he wanted to wrap his mind around that, first and foremost, he had to suck it up and show some balls.

By the time he emerged from the bath tub the water was cold, the alcohol gone and the liquid courage blurring his mind enough to show him the way. One confrontation, all he had to do was to man up for one confrontation: be a boring professional doctor for once in his life, ask a mom what he needed to know about the girl and work with it.

Deadly hoping it would have been the first and last time.


	25. Chapter 25

_I think it's time to point out I am not a doctor: I like to incorporate medical mysteries in my stories because they are part of the show, I do my research and I try to get it right. That being said, I hope you'll enjoy where this is going anyway_

* * *

25

A couple of big and loud yawns answered Foreman's good morning as he greeted his colleagues, all looking like they've had very little sleep the night before. 13's fatigue was probably related to the fact she had spent the night watching over Rachel Cuddy, and she looked like she could use a shower. Chase's face seemed tired, but also satisfied enough to hint a pleasant night, while Taub appeared stressed other than tired, probably after a night spent rolling on the couch mourning over his marriage.

Quite an assorted variety of zombies, to which Foreman rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"You all look like you could use some coffee, gallons of it," the neurologist stated then, sipping his own coffee.

"We're waiting for House," 13 grumbled.

"Why? You think he'll buy you breakfast?" Foreman chuckled amused.

"No but he'll have his," Chase said, and the others nodded as he shrugged. "Might as well wait for him, at least we won't be just staring at him while he mocks us with his mouth open."

"Don't lie to me pretty boy," House warned him, coming out of nowhere behind him. "I know you missed that."

Chase was so confused by his sudden appearance that he went close to admit that yes, he kind of felt the lack of it, but he managed to control his bubbling. Appalled as much as he was, the rest of the group wondered where the hell House had come from, but even more they were taken aback by the grin on his face. Oh yes, he did have it the day before too when he'd arrived at PPTH, but if the previous one had been mainly a victory grin to celebrate the successful ambush, the one of that morning looked more like the smile of a hunter who have happened to find the right trace to follow.

Foreman and Chase quickly checked on Wilson, it had been quite a long time since they've had to decipher House's behave, and the oncologist gave them a serious nod. Which was why when House took off, and to 13 and Taub's much dismay didn't head to the cafeteria, his two older former fellows didn't hesitate in following him.

"Update," House said when he felt the flock behind him.

"Where are we going"? Taub asked instead, still hoping he could get a stop at the coffee machine.

"To the elevator," House answered giving him a dull expression, then repeated. "Update."

"We ran the allergy tests but we found nothing significant. All the usual causes of food allergies came back negative," 13 told him, immediately contaminated by his hurry and determination.

"Then I guess no need to update me on the lack of results," House quipped sarcastically, then he glanced back at her and smirked. "You look like crap."

"No wonder, I spent the whole night dealing with it."

"Oh please, tell me this is funny as it sounds!" He begged mockingly joining his hands in a fake pray, then they all entered the elevator.

Or to better say they tried. Since there already were people inside the cabin, there wasn't enough room for everybody and Wilson and Taub were left outside. As the door started to close, House held the men's gazes and shrugged, talking as they disappeared.

"Take the next one," he said out loud, then added louder with the elevator already moving. "Or move your asses and use the stairs!"

Disconsolate, Wilson and Taub looked at each other and sighed defeated, before heading to the stairs.

"What's up with him?" Taub asked as they climbed up. "Looks like he's got fire up his ass."

"He does. I don't know, when I got to his motel he was up, dressed and ready to go."

"Did he tell you something? It seems he came up with an idea."

"He told me nothing," the oncologist admitted painfully. "He didn't say anything, but he looked like was this close to get the steering wheel and drive us here faster."

"Well, that sounds like a good thing right?"

Wilson honestly had no answer for him. Taub was walking ahead of him, but stopped when the oncologist's silence became too long to be reassuring. He looked back at Wilson and found him thoughtful, something that paired up with the rampaging House he had just seen made a dangerous combination.

"How's Rachel?" Wilson finally asked, breaking the silence.

"There's something new," Taub informed him, not really interested in digging deeper. "She started to have diarrhea, but alternate with constipation."

"So the food option might still be on."

"Yes, but…if we don't ask Cuddy about more details-"

He paused again, intentionally this time, since he didn't need Wilson's silence to know he had just ventured in a delicate territory. But this time when he looked back at the oncologist, Taub found him looking up at him, almost hopeful the other man could actually push further.

"You have to," Wilson said, serious, when they reached the third floor.

"He wouldn't let us. He doesn't want to-"

"He doesn't want to do it himself," the oncologist pointed out, then sighed and stopped before opening the door on the hallways. "But he also want to solve this one."

"So I guess," Taub muttered, more to himself than to him. "It's a matter of which one he wants the most."

"Or…the one he doesn't want the less."

The oncologist's words left him a little puzzled, but Taub quickly dismissed the feeling imputing it to the time gone by since when he used to witness Wilson and House's dynamics. After all, he didn't find House's resistance to deal with Cuddy strange: he was known to be someone who avoided patient's family like plague, the whole situation was indeed odd and he did remember how screwed up House had been when it have been about treating Amber, someone close-

"-and there's a rush now. We dug in every theory we could, with diarrhea and constipation we can still keep the food poisoning door open but-"

Chase was explaining House the new obstacle on their way to a diagnosis when Taub and Wilson joined the rest of the group, gathered near the elevator. Despite being involved in the conversation, House wasn't looking at them. He was actually looking beyond Chase, 13 and Foreman while listening, and Wilson immediately noticed his friend wasn't just staring blankly at a random point but looking over at the end of the hallway, where Rachel Cuddy was hosted.

Where Lisa Cuddy had been spending every minute of the past nights and days.

And the oncologist gulped, almost gasping loud when House stepped resolutely in that direction.

"We're-" hesitating, Foreman looked over at Wilson for a quick consult but the oncologist was clueless, and then they carefully followed House "-electrolytes were totally out of range, we're hydrating her."

"Hydration is not a cure," House shoot back drily in a low voice, which became an even lower hiss. "We need more information."

Life in slow motion, that was what happened more or less.

House didn't register it for real, but the troops stopped following him, Wilson included, when it became clear he was heading to Rachel's room. Not that he could have felt it anyway, the only thing House could hear was the sound of his own wild beating heart in his head, and a childish mocking voice questioning him about where all the boldness of the night before might have gone. And it didn't get any better. He got one step closer to feel sick when his mind provided him, with a shining sign, of the time passed since the last time he had seen her. His head spun around when he stood on the door and actually saw her, sitting next to the bed and curled up on her daughter's sleeping figure.

Wilson, the only one who had dared to follow him up until that point, stopped a couple of meters behind House. From his spot he could see his friend, and beyond him Cuddy suddenly becoming aware of a presence in the room. Like an animal sensing the menace of a predator nearby, she froze and stopped, slowly turning around. And Wilson could swear her eyes widened in a painful mix of fear and relief, desperation and hope.

A complex cocktail flushed down the toilet the moment the equipment attached to Rachel went off, with spiking loud alarming signal.


	26. Chapter 26

It's been months since House and Cuddy saw each other, and now it's about to happen again.

26

"We need more information."

_And I need to prove myself, I need to stop being a coward and do this. _C'mon _House, it won't be that hard, it can't. Man up, be professional. Ask her about how she feeds her spoiled brat and- Wait a second: why should I do this? They can, it will be the same, right?_

_No it won't, I know it. I can't jerk myself around like this. I need to do this. I could write them things to ask, but I have to be there to listen with my ears. I have to see the reactions with my eyes, that's the only way I can know what matters, what's really important._

_Coward…you're a good friend Wilson, but you're such a coward sometimes. You're leaving this up to me. I could accept it from them, they don't know, they can't imagine, they don't want to even consider it, but you-_

_Just a few more steps and I'll see her, again, after- God, how long is that? 8, 10 months? Damn, I feel like I have to vomit. Maybe I should, a quick stop to the bathroom… No, I can't go on like this. All I need is to bear this once and I'll be fine, let's get this done and move on._

_Funny, moving on is what I wanted to do, because of her, and here I am, again. The biggest problem is that I want to see her, I'm scared as hell but I want to. See her eyes, her face. She's going to be beautiful, as always, I know that already. She'll be perfect and stunning as if she hasn't spent the last week grounded in that room. And she's going to smell good, vanilla and a touch of spice, sweet and strong at once, and I'll look like a dirty homeless compared to her, as usual._

_Here, the perfume already, I'm not even in the room and it's kicking in, so good- Focus House, focus! You're here to work, nothing else. Save her kid's life, leave her dealing with the weight of her gratitude toward you and go back to Lexington where nobody expects anything from you. Diet, food habits, meals timing. I'll have to ask the baby sitter too, of course. Food poisoning or allergy is a solid theory, I just need a few more elements and I'll wrap this one up soon, so I can go back to my life, the one I earned for myself._

_Ok, here we go. I'm here. No going back-_

_Oh my God!_

* * *

"We need more information."

_Yeah you do, anything you need. Just get it done, soon, I can't take this anymore…Rachel can't, she's too small and fragile to bear this._

_Look at you honey, my little girl, so tiny and harmless. Kids shouldn't get sick, it's not fair. They can't tell you where it hurts, how they feel. I need you for this House, I knew it from the start. Your skills, your dedication, your stubbornness and your pride, your need to never fail when it comes to medicine, your hunger for the right diagnosis. I need you House._

_I need him, but I don't want him…but that won't be a problem, right House? You don't want me either, you don't want to deal with me just like you avoid patient's family, as always. Keep doing this, I really don't care._

_Send me your fellows, Wilson, the janitor…whoever you want. Interrogate me, send CSI to my place, call whoever you need but don't, don't come to me. He won't, will he? He doesn't need me to tell him, and that's what I'm counting on. He's doing the same, we only need each other as long as it's about to figure out what's wrong with Rachel. We have our reasons, different ones, but we can make it work this way, no matter what._

_After all it doesn't matter how you get there, results matter. The finale outcome have always been the only thing he cared about, and for once mine and his goal happen to collide. I guess that's why he left, somehow, he was trying to achieve something. No, it wasn't just about running away, House is not someone who runs away. He's here after all now, if he'd be running away he wouldn't have come back, right? But he did, because…why? I don't know, none of my business as long as he does what he does best, being the exceptional doctor he is._

_Unless…is he, still? Wilson didn't tell me anything, all these months. Oh c'mon, why should I not trust him? Of course he's still the brilliant doctor I knew, and he's going to take care of this, I know he will._

_What's this, then? This…how can silence be so deafening? What's going on out there, who- He's here! Right here, I feel him. Why? How did it happen? It shouldn't have gone like this, he was supposed to follow the plan and stay away from me. Yes, he's here, behind me, I feel him, I smell him. I…I can't, don't move Lisa, don't turn around. Don't, don't you dare. Let him take the first step, don't move, don't… oh my God!_

* * *

They're here, right now.

Meters, only steps away from each other. Eyes locked, breaths trapped in their throats, hearts beating, palms sweating.

They're here, right now.

Together, kind of. At least closer than what they've been in months.

She's here, she's always been here, and she looks awful to him. Tired, stressed, desperate, he thinks. Her face graved with fatigue, lack of sleep and hope.

He's here, back for now, at least. He looks terribly normal. Sleep deprived, doubtful regretting being here, his face a window telling her how messed up he is.

But it works, still, no matter the lack of practice. That silent communication between them starts over, without any control. Waterfalls of unsaid words going on in their minds yet none uttered, perhaps it's not just the time for it, that's what they think.

And sure it's not the right moment, not when the alarms on Rachel's machine go off breaking the spell.


	27. Chapter 27

_Thanks for the kind reviews, chapters like the previous ones are those I love the most to write but I know they might be hard to read._

* * *

27

They were all wondering the same: why the lab, despite the fact they had no test running or results to wait for? Yet, there they were. The poor doctor who had seen them coming had watched the cortege, clueless and speechless for the way they've each found their spot, spreading in all corners of the room and taking every seats available. Once House himself had stepped in followed by Wilson, it had become clear to the young doctor his time on the lab was done, and he had soon left the room.

Once the scene had been cleared a furious ddx had started, the group divided with 13 and Chase leaning on the food related disease, and Taub and Foreman incapable to ignore the new symptom. Fever had spiked up, for all they knew that, and nothing else, have happened in Rachel's room. To their knowledge, that was the only reason why House had abruptly left the spot he had so bravely conquered.

Of course they couldn't know, nor didn't want to read any sign of it on Wilson or House's face, what had been going on until right before Rachel's fever appeared. Not that Wilson, or even House himself, could have been able to name it. More likely House's mind was trying to deny it had ever happened, but someone had to keep the focus on the sick kid who was now showing a new symptom.

The team was split, both factions defending their leads raising the bars of their medical argument. If House would have been focused enough, he'd sure appreciated the effort. But he wasn't paying attention, and neither was Wilson. Although the oncologist was trying to do both, at the same time keeping a watchful eye on his friend and the conversation. Ears glued on the medical discussion, Wilson had his eyes on House, sitting near the door from where he could observe everything…if only he'd cared. As always, House hadn't told him what he was up when he had picked him up at the motel. Wilson was glad his friend had found the guts to come out of his emotional hideout and face Cuddy, but once he'd seen House standing in front of Cuddy it had become painfully clear he had no real plan.

But it wasn't the moment for that, it was now obvious for the oncologist they were working on two different cases at once, but they had to work on one at the time not to screw them up both. Something that somehow seemed to finally trigger in House's mind too, because all of sudden Wilson saw him huff and straighten up, his blue eyes widening and flickering for a second before he spoke.

"Stop arguing kids. There's work for everybody," he stated trying to sound cheerful, and Wilson had to admit he was doing a pretty good job. Then he lifted his cane and pointed at Chase and 13. "Fever doesn't necessarily rule out food poisoning or allergy, it's just a matter of matching. Give Cuddy the third grade on the kid's diet and check every database you can come up with. Infection," he went on then. "Could be anything, start to narrow things down and keep track of the fever."

The resolute tone of his voice was enough, he had made few but strong points and they knew better to follow his orders when they came like that. The four doctors left the room, taking different directions in order to follow their instructions, and House watched them feeling his tongue itch when he was about to call them back. Oh, he did mean what he what he had said, but he wasn't sure he felt like dealing with Wilson in that moment, not given the heavy studying stares the oncologist had been given him.

Instead of going for a straight approach, House stood up leaning with his back on the wall and folding his arms. Puzzled, Wilson looked over at his friend, still silent and apparently waiting for his first move. But the lack of initiative on House's side took the oncologist by surprise, and it became impossible for him to utter anything more than some confused syllables.

"Well ok, if you don't want to talk about it," House huffed all of sudden, shrugging disconsolate as if he was honestly upset for the missed opportunity, then headed to the door.

"House," Wilson started, but he knew already he had blown whatever chance to talk about that.

"Do you have your wallet?"

"Wh-it's in my coat, in my office."

"Then it's your lucky day. I'm buying."

Feeling whatever was going on was a train he couldn't risk to lose, Wilson wisely kept his mouth shut: the fact House had just offered to buy was definitely a plus, and followed his friend. Walking behind him, the oncologist kept his eyes on his friend wondering how he could to that, shrug off the pure and blunt panic that had taken over while confronting Cuddy, looking like none of that ever happened. But Wilson knew better: more likely that was just an act he put up to bounce away inquiring looks and stares, long enough at least to reach a safe place. Which, apparently, wasn't the cafeteria, because once they stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor House headed straight to the main entrance. Doubtful, Wilson followed him, wondering what he might have been up to and if and how it was related to what had happened with Cuddy. Then could do nothing but roll his eyes when, once outside, House guided them to a hot-dog cart along the street.

"Wow House," the oncologist mumbled with a flat voice as his friend handled him the first hot-dog. "Are you sure you can afford this?"

"As long as you don't want any toppings," House grumbled back, then ordered for himself the biggest hot-dog on the menu.

Wilson rolled his eyes but waited patiently, tasting his simple and season-less hot-dog, knowing House needed to start the chewing process in order to open an access to his precious thoughts. And it must have been a damn thick fog to dissipate, because it took House a hot-dog and a half along with a soda to have that, the switch in his eyes from vigil to absent which told Wilson he was ready.

"We really have to talk about this, don't we?"

At his own terms of course.

"You tell me House," Wilson pointed out, wiping his hands and mouth once the hot-dog was gone "You think you can go on without talking about it?"

Thoughtful, House slowly sat down on a bench sucking at the straw, so lost in the act he barely noticed drink was over. Then he sighed, threw the paper glass in the nearest bin and leaned back on the bench, resting his cane and hands on his lap.

"No," He finally said with a huff. "But not now, I can't deal with it now."

"Then when?"

"The kid first," House insisted bending on his knees and watching his friend. "Anything else…it doesn't matter now. The kid is sick, really sick, and we have to figure out why."

"And how do you plan to do that without dealing with Cuddy?"

"Team will. You will." He cut it short, he might have sounded dismissive but Wilson knew he'd been probably been thinking about that strategy since from when he'd left Rachel's room. "I'll take care of the disease, you of everything else."

"So," Wilson huffed, folding his arms, "You get the young Cuddy and I get the old one?"

"Oh c'mon Wilson, she looked like crap but old," he said mockingly, but his words died in a whisper as the effort to cheer things up faded miserably. Then he shook his head and waved his hands in the air. "What's the matter? I've always focused on the disease instead of the patient, avoiding family. It worked for years….no reason to change."

"Weird," the oncologist said in a low voice, curious. "Thought you were all about changes recently."

"So you mean…why change the change strategy? Well that makes sense." House frowned, but his lame attempt to deflect didn't work, and he had to know it because he stood up to release some tension pacing the pace. "This morning I woke up determined to talk to her, ask what I needed in order to do my job better, I felt unstoppable…then I saw her and I forgot why I was even there." He stopped and gave his friend a sad grin before shaking his head. "I can't focus on the case if I have to focus on not focus on her at the same time."

"I don't know what scares me the most," Wilson said, serious, standing up to approach him. "Your convoluted reasoning, or the fact that I get it."

Despite everything, House gave his friend a quick smile and welcomed the pat on his shoulder, then they both headed back to the hospital. In front of the door, with his hand already on it, House stopped, bending his head down and speaking so low Wilson could barely hear him.

"She really…looked like crap-"

Good thing House wasn't looking at him. Something in his voice told Wilson he wouldn't have been able to bear what his friend might have shown. The oncologist looked at his friend, his shoulders hiding his head, wondering how he could do that: keeping his emotions guarded, and at the same time let them free every now and then, just how much he needed not to be crashed.


	28. Chapter 28

28

Indeed she did, look like crap.

He'd gotten nothing more than a quick look, just a passing glimpse, yet it had been enough to see the signs of her motherly stress: from messed up hair to dark circled eyes, from dry lips to her excavated cheeks. Imperfect nails, callous fingers, low shoulders, lazy clothes, no sign of make up nor jewels.

Messy, dirty, untidy, weak…human. And so beautiful.

She looked more like herself now, lore like the Lisa Cuddy he used to know and expected to find. She had the scrub on instead of her clothes, the cap gently hosting her hair and her face partially hidden behind the surgical mask. However, even from there, hovering above the operating room and observing everybody getting ready for the procedure, House still thought everybody could have told the woman down there, despite the outfit and the unquestionable authority she was spreading, was a mother more than anything else. Whatever trace of confidence and power she might have transmitted being in charge in the room, was easily taken away by the palpable tension of everybody around Cuddy. Had there been any doubt, the nervousness took over like a disease when the dean nodded at the doctor in charge to start.

Following their theory of the infection, Taub and Foreman had suggested an LP. Needless to say, when the moment had come to pass the suggestion on the mother, AKA the boss, nobody had volunteered. In that moment, watching Cuddy in the room, House could only see a mother, but he was sure the boss had been the one giving the green light. Of course she looked like she regretted it already, but she also knew it was the right thing to do. She might have not being thrilled to give her two years old daughter a painful procedure, but Cuddy was also smart enough to recognize the necessity of it for Rachel's sake.

She probably knew he was up there. House was sure of that, because of the way she dedicated all her strength not to look anywhere near his direction. Not only that, she had done nothing but give him her back and focus on her daughter. Dr. Aku was taking the tampon to prepare the area for the puncture, while an assistant was carefully setting the syringe. Cuddy looked at that, she saw the needle and wondered what it was about to cause to her child, because then she ran to her daughter moving the nurse away and taking her place to hold Rachel.

It was a sign to House. In the last 20 minutes Cuddy had walked on the line between doctor and mother, and when he saw her lean on Rachel to whisper the kid something she finally stepped in the mom's role: and he knew it was his time to go.

None of his business.

To be honest, he knew he shouldn't have been there at all. However, after his lunch with Wilson it had been like receiving a gift with a big bow in January, under the promise not to open it until Christmas. He couldn't let it go, because she did look like crap and it tore him apart. He had needed to run away from her but he had missed her, he had tried to avoid her but now he couldn't stay away from her.

He left the observation room almost in a hurry, he met nobody but he felt he had to run and hide somewhere. With no hesitation, House headed to the closest restroom. He swung the door open and immediately heard a couple of gasps on his left, he looked in that direction and found two men dealing with their biological needs. They didn't look like medical staff, and was probably why they didn't take off the moment they saw him despite his intimidating glare, so House gave up and disappeared in one of the bathroom. He needed time and space for himself, and once inside he lowered the lid and sat down, throwing his head back and furiously rubbing his right leg with both hands.

The weird thing was it didn't hurt, not that bad: it was more like a disturbing itch, almost tickling instead of the usual badass pain. But rubbing his thigh was almost an habit, it had become one since he'd gotten rid of the Vicodin, and he had soon learned what it meant. It was his defence, his way to distract his mind from something else and prevent his brain from going into overdrive. The best countermove he could ask for: free, harmless, not addictive as drugs…exactly what he needed to divert his attention from Cuddy. Not just Cuddy but, God helped him, what she was going through. He hadn't thought about it, about how she was taking that all, what was going through her mind with Rachel being so sick and in pain. When he had seen her for the first time, in Rachel's room, the only thing he'd been capable to think of had been how her presence was affecting him, nothing else.

Then there he was, wondering about her too…because she looked like crap, and that view opened a whole new book. The one he hadn't want to read: the one of the story she had been living away from him, while he was away from her. He closed his eyes and thought, trying not to wonder, but nothing came to his mind as his brain was trying to protect him from himself. He soon gave up. After all, he had a life to save and although he knew he had to wait the LP's response, House tried to get some sense out of that case. Something he could have done way better out of the bathroom, and maybe he should have start by finding himself a new place where to think, since he was running out of reason to avoid the fourth floor.

Still clueless about his final destination, House got out of the bathroom with the intention to wash his face, maybe have a little talk with himself in front of the mirror and then move on. He made it, but only to the wash his face part, because when he turned to the paper towel dispenser he saw her. Cuddy was standing inside the door, and the lost look on her face had nothing to do with the fact she was in the wrong bathroom.

Changes were it had more to do with the large stain of blood all over her scrub.

If he'd had something in his hands House would have not dropped it but instead seized the grip around it, unleashing that way the instinct not to scream. Gulping, his throat dry as the desert, House studied her face. The mask and the cap were lost on her neck and he could see her face, eyes wide open like a deer in headlights, her mouth half-open in a painful stupor that triggered something inside him. His body didn't respond to his brain, not that there were many instructions coming from up there anyway, but House found himself hooking the cane to the sink, limping toward her holding his right leg with one hand, covering the distance between them.

He only had the time to see her tilting her chin up, a last and desperate attempt to be fierce and strong, right before the light in her eyes switched off replaced by tears.

Which he buried in his embrace along with her face the fastest he could.


	29. Chapter 29

_I have a feeling you liked the end of the previous chapter, but please remember these are tough times for House and Cuddy_

* * *

29

The room was crowded but silent, the sound of the water running in the sink coming to their brains, more than their ears, only because they knew it was there.

Cuddy have showered. After an unidentified amount of time the mother of all spontaneous hugs had dissolved: say who broke it up first wasn't even an option, more likely it had been a mutual separation.

The first and last time they've been on the same page.

Waiting for Cuddy to come out of the private bathroom of her office, looking at Taub, Chase and 13 all squeezed on the couch while he was swamped on the armchair, House wiped away of his mind the way she looked when she had pulled away from him. He haven't had enough time to give her a proper look, he had no memory real memory of that moment, and when she finally emerged from the bathroom House couldn't tell what was going on in her mind. Along with finding hard to believe she was the same woman who had come after him, God knew how, in the men's restroom. The same woman bringing along her bloody scrub and hands; the same one who had started to sob and cry in his arms, speechless; the same one who have babbled him an absent "I need to shower" before leaving with a scary zombie walk.

But she was, and a clear sign was the fear written all over her face, which the others probably mistook as stress and fatigue. He had to give it to Cuddy, it really took her nothing to look gorgeous again, although when she joined them she was wearing neither the clothes nor the makeup of the dean.

"We made it till the end with the LP," Chase said carefully once Cuddy had taken her place behind the desk. "It was clean, we can rule out infection."

"But fever is still there," Taub suggested, then gulped down nervous as the three of them stiffened on the couch. "And there's…a new symptom."

Considering the "new symptom" was blood coming out of her daughter's mouth, both Cuddy and Taub did pretty well in that heavy exchange. The man had just a little hesitation driven by fear and respect, while the woman's face only stiffened imperceptibly, almost charmingly and thankful for the subordinate delicacy.

"Foreman and Wilson are with her now," 13 urged to add, although she didn't know why they were or why she was saying that, but it sounded comforting.

"She spit out blood," House's voice emerged from the dark corner of the room he was sitting on, recreating with those few words all the tension the previous exchange had dissipated "We need to know where it comes from."

"It's either lung or stomach." Chase jumped in, knowing since the door had been burst open there was no reason to play safe anymore.

"She coughed it out." The dean of medicine stated then, her voice sounding incredibly steady given the circumstances.

Cuddy also looked like she was about to add something but they were all glad she didn't', none of them, House included, expecting the woman to specify "I was there, holding her when my daughter started to cough out blood and spit it on me". No matter the strength all of them recognized her, that was sure something which could test her limits, yet she was trying to keep it together.

"No, she didn't."

It was Foreman who firmly announced it to the rest of the company as he stepped inside the boss's office, followed by Wilson and carrying a big envelope in his hand. Cuddy's body froze at his words, not what she was really expecting to hear since there wasn't really a better option on the plate. Knowing actions worked better than words, and really not feeling like face the turmoil boss, the neurologist walked across the room and handled her the envelope, not missing a bit Cuddy stood up and took it and extracted the x-ray in it. Holding the plate up she turned toward the big window and looked for a spot of light, studying the image of her daughter's small lungs which showed nothing she should have worried about. Good news, great even if only she could have ignored everything else, all the symptoms Rachel had been collecting in the past days. And while looking at that x-ray, way too long since it had obviously nothing to tell, her brain immediately switched to a faster gear in a way House would have just loved, Cuddy realized after all she could have indeed hoped for a better outcome.

And she decided to be shamelessly stubborn and naïve.

"The definition is not good enough, and she must have moved." Cuddy said, still looking at the x-ray and because of that missing the jumble of skeptical looks everybody gave her "We have to do this again…"

"It's in moment like this you give my mocking about you being a real doctor all the credit it deserves." House stated with an annoyed long huff, jumping on his feet and closing the distance, ripping the x-ray off of her hands with such a determination Cuddy had no way to find it outrageous nor feel somewhat insulted "It's clean, there's no blood in her lungs and a new x-ray won't put it there. It must come from somewhere else."

"The x-ray is not conclusive, I'm saying…"

"You're in denial." He grunted, tossing the useless x-ray on the desk and walking away from her, wondering for a second what invisible and insane force had managed to push him that close to her in the first place "Lungs or not lungs, we had to rule that one out and we did. Face it," he added, quickly glancing at her but ever faster averting his eyes when his heart pumped blood furiously fast in his body "you don't want to because you know what we need to do now."

Wilson was nothing but confused. One part of him was mad at them, he could sense the angry tension growing between them and wanted to yell them to shut it since that was the last thing they needed giving the circumstances… On the other hand it was amazing, too good to be true, see them talk and interact, even if it was to argue.

"We need to find out…where it came from…"

"She needs and endoscopy."

They've seen House being mean and rude countless times, intentionally mostly, but the way Cuddy's' face went pale at his words really seemed too much for them. The dean of medicine gulped, muscles on her face stiffened and tensed and Wilson really thought she would have slapped House pretty hard, he kind of hoped it actually. But she didn't, because his friend decided not to leave her the chance and instead pushed on.

"You're right, we need to find out where the blood comes from. Lungs ruled out, the most probably source is stomach, and here comes the 8 inches tube pushed down your daughter's throat digging in her intestines to find out where she's hiding her secret blood stash."

Their eyes were locked; none of them felt like they were separated from the rest of the world because it was too heavy to be ignored. House's words were like stones, thrown at a woman with no defense nor the strength to dodge them. More likely, Cuddy had invested all her energies in keep it together, bury her fears not to scare Rachel and carrying on the image of the strong woman she felt obliged to stay faithful to. One of the reason why she had tried to avoid House since his arrival was exactly that…she had not enough resources for that, to face him too…she had no defense against the truth.

"There are…" she babbled, stepping back from him in a slow and well masked retreat hoping what the others saw might have attributed to her parental turmoil "…there are other ways…to find out…"

"Name one." House pressed, he stepped closer to her and if someone would have asked him later about that he would have denied he was fully in control of his actions "You can't because there's no one. Not as fast, not as effective."

"House…" Wilson carefully tried to warn him, but House ignored him.

"It's just a test Cuddy, you agreed on the LP, how can you not…"

"LP was just painful, with her conditions an invasive procedure like endoscopy…" now frustrated, Cuddy bit at her bottom lip opening a whole new window on his memory that almost blew him away "If while looking for the cause we make it worst…Rachel can't sustain another blood loss, she already lost enough…"

"Blood, we can give her more, another life not so easy."

"House, for God's sake…"

"Find another way." Cuddy shut both men up with one single roared hiss, glaring at Wilson and House at once and making the team glad not to be involved in that part of the conversation, especially when Cuddy turned her chin up at their former boss "You're the brilliant doctor, think of a different test to…thought you were good at this…"

"I'm good at doing my job, whatever it takes." House threatened her, heaving on her for a couple of seconds digging into her scared eyes, and she didn't fail to notice how hurt he looked before he stepped away, heading straight to the door "You should have known better not to call me, not if you won't let me do things my way." He reached the door, grabbed the handle and swung it open stepping out all in one quick single movement "You better make your mind up, or I'm done here."


	30. Chapter 30

_This case, with all his implications, is proving to be hard to deal with for House. Who can he rely on?_

* * *

30

Wisely, Wilson hadn't asked House if he wanted to eat something before retiring in the loneliness of his motel room. However he had been surprised, in a good way, when his bold offer for a drink had been quickly accepted. House looked like he could use a drink, two or three even, but the oncologist had honestly thought his friend would have preferred to get drunk on his own after such a rough day. House had agreed, but of course there had been a twist. Instead of let the oncologist drive them to a bar, he'd given directions to a liquor store on the way to the motel, and when they entered the room Wilson immediately knew why.

Careless of his friend's disappointed face, House left Wilson standing on the door and stepped inside the room, looking like a giant as he dribbled the empty small bottles from the mini bar. Silent, House limped to the nightstand and picked up the glass, then went back to the door and closed it behind him. He then sat on the hood of Wilson's car ignoring his light protest, swirled open the cap of the bottle they've bought and poured a glass he handled to Wilson. Rolling his eyes and huffing Wilson took the glass, then looked around and found nowhere else to seat but the sidewalk.

Once settled, House lifted the bottle in a toast Wilson suspiciously replied to, almost chocking with the first sip as House spoke.

"You shouldn't have called me. I was doing great in Lex, I was…ok, I was doing not crappy but it was something." He was barely moving, just fidgeting on the hood to adjust his ass on the slippery surface, but his voice sounded upset as if he was trying to control himself. "I have my life there, not better maybe but not worse. Different, at least…different it's all I asked for."

He paused, House looked at the bottle in his hand then slowly shook it as to gently mix his drink, but didn't touch it. As for him, the oncologist decided that was not his kind of poison, so he put the glass down and turned his complete attention on his friend. Under the cheap lights of the parking, House looked extremely weak and tired despite the growing tension in his voice and speech. Wilson wasn't sure he wanted to hear the end of it, not with that crappy start.

"I didn't need this, I'm sorry for the kid but you should have kept me out of this. I ran away from all of this." He wasn't yelling, but his voice spiked up remarkably as his right arm wandered in the air, and although apparently pointing in a random direction Wilson had a feeling he was indicating the hospital and all it meant. "I had to run away, you now it. The last thing I needed was to be brought back into this, it's-it's your fault," House stated, bitter and harshly honest, finally taking a long sip from the bottle before he added. "It's your fault Wilson, you should have known better."

It wasn't easy to hear, those words were hard to take and digest, and House was leaving no space to misinterpretation. Yet Wilson couldn't honestly say he hadn't been waiting for that, and try to deny the true nature of his words was out of question. But since they were up to that, the oncologist had no intention to chicken out and just let House have it.

"You're right," Wilson admitted with a huff, then shrugged. "So what? You want to punch me?"

"Not drunk enough," House quipped bitterly with a smirk on his lips, then shook the bottle and abandoned it with a dismissive gesture. "With this crap I'll never get drunk enough to-"

"Pass out and hope you won't think about what a jerk you've been to Cuddy?"

Puzzled and intrigued, House tilted his head on the side to give his friend a questioning look.

"We have to hang out more. You're getting too bold away from my influence," he scoffed.

"Then we agree," Wilson went on, standing up. "You've been a jerk."

"She is being unreasonable," House pouted folding his arms, and the oncologist rolled his eyes.

"She's worried House', she's involved," he tried to explain. "She's the mother-"

"No, she's not. She's just playing her little mommy game-"

"For God's sake House, it's not the moment to lean on semantic."

"It's not the moment to lean on me!" House cut him off, his voice spiking up with anger and frustration as he stepped in his friend's face. "I've never been someone to count on, people should have no expectation on me. You of all people."

_You should know, you put your loved one life in my hand and I failed. And you blamed me for it, you had all the rights to. You counted on me, on what I can do best and when it mattered the most I let you down. I don't want to go through that again, I-_

He couldn't bear it, not anymore. He truly believed that, if people don't have expectation you won't let them down, and he didn't want people to rely on him. Patients, yes: sick people seeking for a way out, he liked them because they were puzzles and because they were like him, desperate for something. But the others…family, friends, co-workers, bosses…please them was just not his thing, it would have never be.

And he was sick and tired to prove it, over and over again.

"I'm going home tomorrow," he said then in a low voice, dribbling away from Wilson and heading to his room. "The team can handle this. They're good, and you can…you'll tell Cuddy. Not my idea, you started it not you fix it."

"I didn't call you."

Wilson's words came dry and steady, freezing House's feet and forcing him to turn around, to find the oncologist now sat on the car just like he'd been not long before.

"Yes, technically I did, I made the phone call. But it wasn't my idea. I didn't want to," the oncologist explained, looking down at his own hands as if he was searching for something. "Cuddy wanted to call you since from when Rachel was admitted. I convinced her to wait, I don't know-" the oncologist shook his head with a bitter smile. "At first I thought it wasn't necessary, honestly I thought it wasn't that serious…or maybe I just tried to convince her to spare you this one. You, Cuddy, Rachel…I couldn't protect all of you, that's the point. This have always been the point."

"Then why did you change your mind?" House asked him, more to prevent him from going any further and end up saying something both of them would have regretted.

"Rachel kept getting worse, Cuddy was just getting more and more desperate. I-I had to do something. I didn't want to bring you back here House. You're right, you were doing so good away from here, I've never seen you try so hard to do something for yourself…I just didn't want to ruin it."

In a different moment, House would have probably mocked his friend for being so emotional and messy with his feelings, conflicted on the right thing to do. But he couldn't, not that night, not if he took a moment to think about all the times Cuddy's name had remained un-uttered in every conversation they've had over the past months.

"It's math," Wilson said then. He was still looking down at his hands and missed the look on his friend's face, as his words triggered something in his mind. "Not calling you, Rachel might have died. On the other hand, to call you could have destroyed what you've worked so hard for. It sounded like a loss-loss situation anyway, and we were running out of time. A decision had to be made-"

"For what for?"

Words slipped out of his mouth, said more to himself than to him, and a sharp wave of headache travelled across his mind as the painful lesson he had learned though them came back to his memory. When Wilson, puzzled, looked up at his friend, he saw House scratching his forehead, thoughtful and almost in pain, and it didn't really help him to figure out what his words really meant.

"House, I'm-"

"You did what you had to," House blurted quickly. "And you shouldn't being sorry or ashamed for what you did Wilson." Now shocked, the oncologist looked up at him wondering how he could read his mind and feelings so easily. "You don't have to feel guilty…for being her friend too-"

With that being said, House reached out and picked up the abandoned bottle from the car. Still a bit appalled, the oncologist watched him limp heavily to the door of his room, House went in and closed the door behind him. Through the window, Wilson saw the light coming up and his friend's silhouette appear on the luminous square. He smiled when heard a crash, knowing it was the bottle finding its proper place in the trash, soon followed by the remains of the previous night.

When the light went off again Wilson climbed down of the hood and left, knowing, despite none of them had mentioned it, the morning after he would have been back to pick him up on his way to the hospital.


	31. Chapter 31

31

They couldn't have done a better job avoiding each other if they'd wanted to.

Cuddy would leave a room and House would walk in, or the other way around for all that mattered, timings so perfect it looked like they were doing that on purpose. But they weren't, which made that little dance of them even mode odd, although with the undeniable pro to keep them apart and maintain the tension on bearable levels for the team.

None of them had said a word about what have happened the night before, and none of them had gone home. House's sudden and abrupt retreat had made clear they had a work to do: if Cuddy wanted another way to find where the blood came from, it was up to them and, of course, there was no need to discuss the ugly confrontation. Which had meant keeping their heads down, digging in books and discuss a way to get out of that dead end, not sure who they feared to disappoint the most: Cuddy the mother or Cuddy the boss.

But then, Cuddy the doctor had made her appearance, a ghost walking inside the lab carrying along the traces of a rough, sleepless and thoughtful night. Useful at least, since she had given them the green line for the endoscopy before vanish in a creepy way. Conveniently, 15 minutes alter House and Wilson have showed up, right on time to be updated.

No surprise at all when House had told them to prepare Rachel while he would have had breakfast. Needless to say, when he had also specified to call him because he wanted to attend the procedure, they've all been quite shocked. A stupor they've dragged along, still unable to believe not only House was there, but actually in the procedure room, scrub and gloves on poking from behind Foreman's shoulder as the neurologist was about to start.

"Don't worry House, I know how to do this," Foreman muttered behind his mask, slightly pissed at his former boss for the useless pressure he was putting on him.

"Trust me, I'm not worried at all," House quipped with a flat voice. "I'm not the one using violence on my boss daughter's intestines."

There was a small cough somewhere in the room, or maybe it was a laugh, but then Foreman gave House a hard look and focused on the procedure. For a moment, House averted his attention from the doctors and the little girl, his eyes quickly travelling to the observation room to check just one more time. But he knew already Cuddy wasn't up there: after all, if she'd been there watching he wouldn't have been able to stay down there and be part of that.

Which was more than fine by him, dealing with the case without her being around made it all easier. At least enough to carry him through that, and hopefully set him free to go back home.

"Patient is sedated," a nurse informed, Foreman nodded and stepped forward holding the tube.

Foreman carefully started, frequently checking on Chase, Taub and 13 who were monitoring the situation and keeping track of the tube's path inside Rachel on the screen. House was right of course, the endoscopy was the fastest way to determine where the blood came from, but Cuddy was right too, pointing out it was a risk and it complicated things. But Cuddy had given her permission and wasn't there, while House was and seemed more than determined to pursue his beliefs, ignoring how big that tube look compared to the kid's stomach.

And even though Foreman was the one manoeuvring, everybody in the room knew who the one in charge was.

* * *

"Thanks, but I already have lunch."

It was House's answer when Foreman placed a small plastic bottle with a couple of tiny white…something, on the table in front of him. House gave it a bored look, not impressed by the neurologist's delivery, while Wilson gave it much more attention leaning down to give it a proper look

Huffing, House finally dropped the taco on the plate and wiped his hands on the paper cloth, then cleared his throat and grabbed the bottle. Watching him, Foreman sat looking around the place, a nice Mexican kiosk with a couple of tables he'd never noticed and that apparently House had discovered in only a couple of days, frowning at the heavy studying glare he was giving to the content of the bottle. The neurologist was about to add it was what they've found during the endoscopy, but wisely thought it would have been useless. Yet his mouth opened again, but he found nothing to say as House, to his blunt shock, dug with one finger in and picked up one of the mysterious items.

"Is that-" the oncologist muttered, puzzled "-is that a bug?"

"This," House said, bringing the bug close to his face, so close both Foreman and Wilson thought he was about to eat it, "is a larva. Not a proper bug, not yet."

"That's what made Rachel spit out blood?" Wilson asked, and Foreman shrugged.

"That's what we found, I'm not sure it's-"

Words slipped away from his mouth, and even from his brain, when House placed the larva on the plate right before him, then he took the plastic cutlery and carefully worked to dissect the bug.

"And...I'm done with lunch," Wilson blurted, pushing away his food with a disgusted grimace on his face.

Ignoring him, House kept his focus on the task, opening up the larva then carrying the plate up to study it. It was taking him so long, and the wait was getting so frustrating, Foreman and Wilson looked at each other, uncomfortably shifting on their seats as House seemed to dig with his eyes inside the bug.

"You know what that is?" Wilson asked, not surprised if the answer would have been yes.

"Where did you find it exactly?" House asked Foreman. "We saw nothing during the exam."

"It was actually stacked in the tube. We found quite some of those, dragged out."

"Dead or alive?"

"Both. We… House," Foreman said folding his arms, furrowing at his former boss. "If you know what it is, can't you just tell us?"

"I," he picked up the bug, it looked even smaller in his fingers yet he managed to open it even further, revealing with a squashing sound the mushy interior. "I have no idea what this is." Both men growled, fighting the desire to throw things at him, but also relaxed since they've feared the answer. Then House threw the bug back on the plate and blurted, enlarging his arms. "How am I supposed to get something out of that? It's just a damn larva, it's impossible to figure out more."

"And what exactly would you be able to learn from an adult bug?"

House shoot Wilson a glare, kind of insulted for the lack of trust his friend was showing. Then reached for the taco in the oncologist plate and picked it up.

"Well, first off all now we know it's a parasite. We could list down some of them to find out which one matches the symptoms. Or," he took a bit of Wilson's former taco and went on chewing, "we could skip the boring old school part."

"How?" Foreman asked.

"The bug," House said pointing at his victim. "It's useless like this, but if we can determine what exactly this is and where it was, we can get information faster."

"We don't know where the bugs were exactly. The grubs are too underdeveloped to be seen during the endoscopy, the tube could have sucked them up everywhere," the neurologist confessed, shaking his head slowly.

"You think if the larva was more developed you could get something out of it?" Wilson asked, seeing how focused House was.

"If it's an insect we have to find out which and how it ended up in the kid. And if it's a parasite we have to know which one, in order to treat her properly," House pointed out, then looked over at Foreman. "You said some of the bugs were alive." The neurologist nodded yes, House leaned back on the chair and scratched his forehead, thoughtful. "We could grow them, help the grubs develop enough to determine exactly what we're dealing with."

"Or," Wilson jumped in, reassuring with a quick gesture of his hand a shocked Foreman, "you can do an MRI. If you scan Rachel's body it could show where the grubs are."

"Oh, but that would be so less cool!" House whined, but his protest was more an act than anything else, and Foreman wasn't surprised when he looked at him to add "Let's do the MRI, try to make it as detailed as you can."

The neurologist didn't wait for more details, he didn't even pick up the bottle but just left, leaving the two men alone. Keeping his eyes low House reached for the glass of beer and drunk away the last sip, then took a plastic fork and absently rolled the more than dead bug in the plate.

"The MRI is a good call," Wilson reassured him then in a low voice.

"And a safe one," House added, then looked up at his friend and shrugged. "You know it will be probably useless."

"Probably," Wilson agreed sipping his lemonade as he shrugged too. "I had to try."

"Of course you had," House nodded, then grabbed his cane and stood up. "Thanks for trying, it shouldn't have been easy knowing it won't work."

"The story of my life, fighting for lost causes. But who knows," he sighed standing up too, patting House on his shoulder. "Nobody says it has to be that ugly."

_Good old Wilson,_ House thought as they headed back to the hospital. _Always looking at the bright side_

Yet, despite finding his friend's stubborn optimism somewhat naively romantic, other than useless, House wished he could share some of that too.


	32. Chapter 32

_Things are getting interesting, aren't they?_

* * *

32

Chase carefully poked his head out of the lab, checking the hallway both ways before stepping out and heading straight to the elevator. The hand seizing the envelope was slightly sweating, he felt his whole body tense as he speeded up, desperately trying to hurry up before the door closed, forcing him to take the next one. He almost made it, run safely into the elevator and go to Cuddy: however, a couple of steps before the elevator, focused on his final destination, he failed to see the hand sneaking out of a blind spot, grabbing the envelope and stealing it from him. Taken aback the doctor stopped, cussing when the paper cut his palm, but mainly because he knew who the thief was.

"House," he whined immediately, "give me the envelope."

"Sure," House quipped, then nonchalantly removed the x-ray from the envelope and handed the empty wrapping back to Chase. "There you go."

"House, please," he huffed, trying to reach for the x-ray in his former boss's hand. "I have to bring this Cuddy."

"And you will," House reassured him, slapping the younger man's hands with his cane. "After I gave it a proper look."

The mocking tone of his voice died when he felt the x-ray slide away from his grip, earning him a deeper cut than Chase's one, which he immediately tried to heal sucking at his hand. House turned around, spotting Wilson holding the plate and urging to put it back inside the envelope quickly provided by a relieved Chase, ignoring his friend's glare and stupor.

"Cuddy first," the oncologist stated then, resolutely walking toward the elevator.

"Why?" House protested limping behind him. "Unless it says "your brat is fine" she'll hardly like the result."

"That's why is up to her to see it, not for you to bark it in her face."

As they entered the elevator Chase stood before them, glad they couldn't see his smirk for Wilson's approach. But he missed the way the two friends looked at each other, a warning glare on Wilson's part to which House answered with an almost thankful one. One way or the other, maybe sensing there was something inevitable in the air, House managed to keep his mouth shut until the ground floor, where they met with the rest of the team finding out Cuddy wasn't in her office, instead serving some hours in the clinic. None of them felt like judging her, they all knew it might help her to ease the tension and distract her, and none of them seemed to feel like bother her anyway. Sensing the impasse, House rolled his eyes and stole Wilson the envelope, heading to exam room 3 and loudly banging at the door. It opened quickly and old lady came out, grumbling something against rude doctors. Careless, House stormed inside the room leaving the granny strategically stuck between him and the group, then spotted Cuddy hastily removing the gloves and tossing them in the bin.

"And I was the cranky one," he muttered hearing her murmur about stupid patients.

Cuddy turned around immediately, and her image struck him as always. The white coat did give her some kind of dignity, but whatever strength was taken away by her tired look and voice.

"What do you want House"? She roared at him, already shaking her head.

"Me? Nothing," he shrugged and handled her the envelope. "You, on the other hand, might be expecting this. Although I'm not sure you really want it."

He saw it immediately, the little flinch of fear in the way her face tensed, the quick flickering movement of her eyes to the envelope. She swallowed, tilting her chin up Cuddy sighed and adjusted her hair, sending a strange shiver down House's spine, then stepped forward taking the envelope. Impassive, House watched her take it and stepping away from him. Despite being focused on her, he caught Wilson and the team about to join them after dribbling the old lady, but before they could enter the room he closed and locked the door. Since from when he'd been back from Mayfield his friend had been there for him, helping him and later sustaining his decision to move on: somehow, if he wanted to pay him back for all that support, House knew he couldn't let him be part of that. Because however quick he'd gotten a glimpse of the x-ray, which combined with his previous expectation and the sombre look on Cuddy's face in that moment, told him things were about to get ugly. Again.

"We need to open," he said then leaning with his back on the wall and looking down at his feet, tapping the cane on the floor. "X-ray is inconclusive, maybe the larvae are too small to be detected, or too few or underdeveloped," he shrugged, he felt her eyes on him but tried to ignore it. "Anyway, we won't get the information we need unless we open."

"You're not going to open up my daughter to find a bug House."

"It's to find the answer, and save her."

"You don't give a damn about saving Rachel. You just want to solve this puzzle, as always."

The last words were a painful addition, she should have known how hurtful they could be as much as House, because her voice seemed to die. On the other hand, he couldn't say he was surprised. He'd been waiting for that moment since from his arrival at PPTH, the confrontation of the day before had been nothing but an appetizer and he knew it.

And if that was round two, he was ready to fight.

"You're lucky they both happen to go in the same direction," House shoot back drily, now looking up and finding her staring at him. "At least I know what I want, who I have to be."

He was not sure which one, but he had sure hit a very sensitive spot. Cuddy's eyes widened in shock and stupor at his cryptic statement, and a sudden rage pushed her to come close to him.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

Oh she was mad, she was so pissed House thought she'd never looked more beautiful, and he had to bit his lip and fight back an admired smirk. Then he pushed back, he abandoned the wall and stepped closer to her, using every inch he could count on her.

"Mother, doctor, dean," he listed then, his voice low but harsh as he tried not to let her eyes distract him. "You better figure out which one you want to be before they all collide. It will be too late then, and you'll regret it. Been there, done that." Cuddy saw his eyes becoming empty for a second, his gaze moments before so powerful now weak, but then he quickly recovered. "If we can't determine what's inside her we can't know how to fight it back."

"We can," Cuddy tried, she had to. "We can call a specialist to examine the larvae, it would buy us more information-"

"And waste a lot of time, and your daughter is running out of that. Stomach, lungs...it's spreading, it might affect the heart next, or her brain. Are you sure you want to waste time with a stranger playing with a bug?"

"Oh, so that's the point!" Cuddy blurted out enlarging her arms, a peak of raging incredulity in her voice. "You want to do it, right? You want to be the one having fun with that worm. You're hoping to find some new disease, or species-God knows, you might even want to name it after you!"

"This isn't about me Cuddy."

"Yes it is House, it's always about you! You left, you're the one who left and it was all about you, nobody gave a damn about who stayed." Frustrated, angry, Cuddy gave him her back carrying on with her rant, missing the shocked and hurt look on his face. "What was the point of leaving, House? Change? Be different? Well let me tell you, it didn't work. You're still the selfish son of a bitch you used to be, you-"

"I've been called to help." It was all the answer he could come up with and it sounded horrible, even more since it was true and he was dying to tell her how wrong she was. "If you don't want me to help-"

"Why can't you just do it without being a jerk?"

"I-"

_I'm not being a jerk, I'm just being myself…the one who have never been enough for you, never will be. Not here, I shouldn't have come back, this is just so hard. I don't want to get hurt anymore, I don't deserve it, I can't take it-_

Those words and more ran through his head looking for a way out to his mouth, but he fought them back and swallowed them down. He closed his eyes and sighed, a long breath to get fresh air to his brain and think of the next move, which ended up being go to the door and rest his hand on the handle.

"You're a doctor," he said then flatly, Cuddy turned around and shoot him an inquiring gaze. "Make a doctor call, or leave it to someone else."

"I can't," she admitted firmly, shaking her head. "I'm her mother."

"No, you're not."

Handle, door, cane, thinking about what to say to those outside. His attention was everywhere but on her and what he had just said, so he didn't see it coming. Her wide open palm swung in the air impacting on his right cheek with a loud sound, the slap echoing at the same time on his face, in the room and deep down inside him. He took it with no reaction, not even a winch, he didn't even close his eyes but just stared blankly in front of himself, an absent smile on his lips he wouldn't have been able to explain either.

Then he looked at Cuddy, standing in front of him with her left arm sill caught in the act, a fierce yet hurt look in her eyes.

"I don't work for you anymore, I don't have to take your crap if I don't want to. Do what you feel like, I'm out," he said then, he opened the door and added in a whisper as he stepped out. "Good luck with Rachel."

He left. Outside the exam room there was only Wilson, which didn't surprise him, as much as it didn't feeling his skin burn when a lonely tear came across the hit cheek.


	33. Chapter 33

_It's difficult to keep it together when lives are on the line, and Cuddy lost it. Now, what will House do?_

* * *

33

For once he cursed himself and his untidy nature, however few his clothes and belongings were spread all over the motel room, forcing him to limp all over the place to pack his bag. He was furious, he felt blood boil in his veins starting from his cheek, and he wished there was someone else there so he could have screamed and released his frustration.

Grumbling, House limped to the bathroom to gather up the few things he had left there, but when he stood in front of the mirror and looked at himself, he saw the truth in his face. The only human being he should have unleashed his fury on was the one who caused it, yet he'd been proved once again he just couldn't do it. Nothing have changed for her, but had he really expected something else? Something different? No, because more likely she hadn't changed either. They were who they were no matter what: that was why they couldn't work, not even try.

"What are you doing?"

Wilson's voice asked as he stepped back in the room. House gave the oncologist a quick look, then stepped toward the bed.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He retorted sarcastically, throwing things inside his bag. "Getting the hell out of this place, this city-out of this whole story and back to my life."

"Um-" Wilson mumbled folding his arms "-so you're running away. Again."

"Don't even try Wilson," House warned him shaking his head. "I'm not wanted here, let alone needed. There's a plane for Lexington in two hours, just let me know if I have to call a cab for the airport."

"House-"

"I'm sick of this Wilson, sick of being castrated by Cuddy. It meant something when she was my boss, I don't have to take this anymore."

"I'm tired of this House, this little, exhausting, wearing game of yours. And, I'm sorry to say, but you probably deserved that slap."

"This is not the point!" House roared, he grabbed a t-shirt and threw it at his friend. "I don't give a damn about what she did or what she said, I just-I'm not the kind of doctor she needs."

"Nope," the oncologist huffed approaching the bed carrying the t-shirt. "You're the friend she needs now."

House's eyes widened in shock at Wilson's words, even more when the oncologist gently rested the garment on the bed and carefully folded it. Grumbling something, House hastily took the t-shirt back and stacked it inside the bag, annoyed by his friend's calm and yet provocative behave.

"I'm not her friend and she knows it," he said then, closing the bag. "If she can't accept what needs to be done I'm useless here. You can keep me updated on the kid's condition if you want, but not like this. I'm a doctor, I have a job…you're the friend material." That said, House picked up his cane and the bag, heading to the door. "Now, will you drive me to the airport or not?"

He knew it couldn't be that easy, not a single thing had been in such a long time, but for a moment yes, he naively thought Wilson could drop it. But there were too many things on the line, starting with the kid's life, and someone like Wilson could hardly let it go. The oncologist had invested too much on that, all the time spent in Lexington with him almost feeling like living a parallel life, and then being the invisible and fragile bridge between them, a precarious walkway shaken by the stormy sea. A long, tired and resigned sigh escaped Wilson's mouth with no shame, House heard him and turned around seeing his friend sitting on the bed, shaking his head disconsolate, and biting at his lip grumbling something and shaking his head too.

"Don't do this Wilson, don't play the guilt card with me," House said trying to sound convincing. "You said it yourself, you shouldn't have called me."

"I said I didn't want to call you," the oncologist quickly pointed out. "And I meant it, I still do," a loud huff came out of his mouth as he leaned down on the bed, looking at the ceiling as he added, "but now I know you have to stay."

"Why should I?" House asked back, immediately detecting the mistake in his approach, not to let Wilson think he actually wanted to be given a reason to stay. "So she can keep reminding me all the reasons why I left?"

"Because you hate unfinished business," Wilson said calmly, his attention devoted to the boring draw of the tapestry on the ceiling. "You want to go back to your life in Lex, your little reign at the hospital? Fine, I get that. But we both know you have to wrap this one up first House, one way or the other," he paused, but if it was to check his friend's reaction he didn't show it. "Leave, change, start over is good…but it's only as good as the comeback proves it.

Those words hit him down in the deep, Wilson could be the greatest of digger when it came about emotions. Feeling suddenly too tired and weak to even stand, House closed his eyes and huffed then walked back to the bed, dropping the bag on Wilson's stomach.

"Comeback sucks," he stated then, smirking at his friend almost chocking because of the bag, then sat too leaning with his back on the headboard and stretching his right leg to rub it. "It's useless Wilson, she said I'm still the same and she's right."

"She's wrong House, because you're not. One year ago you'd never took Rachel's case because it was too boring, yet you came. And you sure didn't do it for an interesting case, nor for Cuddy. And you want to save to girl."

"Of course I want to," House scoffed massaging his leg. "I'm not a monster-"

"So see, you both want the same things. Opposite ways to get there have always been your daily special."

"Now you're being intentionally dense. You'll never get a woman like this, just so you know." Wilson didn't move but gave him a reproachful glare, which House felt he deserved and shrugged. "You know it's not the same, I can't go on like this. I can't think straight when she's around, and she is all the time since it's her kid. No matter what I come up with I know she'll say no, and I'll have to convince her. But I can't control myself, I'll overreact getting pissed at her until she ends up getting mad at me. It's like keep crashing on a brick wall."

"Uhm," Wilson mumbled, then yawned and rested his hands behind his head. "Wake me up when you get to the new part."

"It's not even a matter of approach actually," House went on thoughtful and ignoring the oncologist. "She'll just refuse any risky treatment and reject every unfortunate option anyway."

"Yeah," the oncologist mumbled again with a sleepy voice. "Because that's not the same reaction every mother would have."

"She's not the mother," House grumbled to himself, his cheek itching in a creepy psychosomatic memory. "It's a kid long term rent. She got the baby from a trash bin, what she's feeling is Red Cross's complex, not maternity-"

"See? I guess this is the kind of externalization that got you that gold star on your face."

"This is the kind of things she should be remembered of every now and then, a little reality check wouldn't hurt her."

"Real, biological, fake…who cares? She's a mother House-"

"No she's not! She's-"

_A selfish woman dying to achieve the perfect family model, and she can't stand failure._ Those words were supposed to come out of his mouth, they were clear in his mind and he had no fear to utter them, yet he didn't. Wilson was already rolling his eyes and grumbling something about his lack of touch, but when he rolled on his side to look over at his friend the oncologist found House silent, his back now straightened up and staring blankly in front of himself.

That was a too long missed and needed expression: the mix of hope, excitement and triumph only House's epiphanies could create.

"She's not the mother, not the biological one," House insisted again, jumping on his feet. "How could I ignored it? She's not the real mother."

"House," Wilson carefully said from the bed. He was far from wanting to kill his friend's inspiration, but given the circumstances he didn't want him to crash and get burned by the light at the end of the tunnel. "We've already checked the biological mother's file for allergies or genetic disease, we found nothing."

"Cuddy raised the kid as her own," House cut him off. "Her rules, her habits, her ways," he paused and shook his head, suddenly dubious. "I don't know, it's long shot but right now is all I have."

"So I assume," the oncologist said standing up and looking at his friend, "you don't need that drive anymore. At least not to airport."

"No. Bu I could still use some support. If I'm right," House confessed as he turned off the lights and they left the room "it means I'm about to crash into a wall again."


	34. Chapter 34

34

A massive headache was pounding violently in between her temples, and she knew there was no drug or pill that could ease it. Being a doctor, she knew all too well: "crying headache" was no real medical condition. Even more in her case, since she was well aware that the one affecting her came out of guilt and regret.

Closed – hidden - in the bathroom of Rachel's hospital room, Cuddy fought back another rush of tears and frustration. She opened the tap and quickly wet her face with fresh and sweet water, hoping it could erase the salty one coming out from her eyes. With the water still running Cuddy looked up in the mirror, checking on her daughter too, then went back to her own image wondering if she'd ever be able to get rid of those red crying circles around her eyes. Suddenly distract and absent, Cuddy looked down at her left hand, almost wishing it wasn't part of her body anymore. But she knew that wasn't the real problem; that slap had surprised House, but no chance it might have hurt him as much as her words.

_You're still the selfish son of a bitch you used to be._

How could have she said that to him, after all he'd been through? After all he had tried, all his efforts to move on, react and change?

_I don't have to take your crap anymore if I don't want to. I'm out._

Change…change her ass! He still was that, the grown up child abandoning the toy when it gets old and boring, quitting the game once he sees he can't win anymore. And he would have always been, no matter the city or the hospital he'd worked in.

_Why can't you just do it without being a jerk?_

And why couldn't she stop seeing him like one? What had he done after all, other than what she'd called him for? Think out of the box, make the calls she didn't want to face, take Rachel's case as nothing but that and deal with it free from the heavy emotional baggage she felt on her shoulder.

_You're not the mother._

No, there had been no need to say that. It had been nothing but one of his deliberate wickedness, an intentional attempt to hurt her in the deep of her being. Since from the very first time she'd showed the wish to become a mother he'd been like that; why should he always try to share his own misery, destroying everybody else's happiness?

But then again-

_I've been called to help._ True, so very true.

_This isn't about me._ He knew it, she knew it too yet he'd been the one saying that out loud, the one who used to make it all about himself.

_You're a doctor. Make a doctor call or leave it to someone else._ What a bitter sweet irony; he'd been mocking her for years, and for once he finally called her a doctor it was to state the brutal ugliness of the dead end she was in.

_You better figure out which one you want to be before they collide._ _It will be too late then and you'll regret it…been there, done that. _

Had he? Yes he had, he'd been in that maze of roles with his own mother, and Cuddy knew he wasn't just bragging about that. She had seen it, the dark cloud passing by, concealing all the things he had cut her out from with his unilateral decision to kill their friendship.

At that thought the trigger inside her switched again: since from their last confrontation she'd been on an emotional swung, sailing from anger to guilt, and the memory of his declaration moved the switch again. How dared he? He kept making and changing the rules for his only benefit, always controlling the game. Shaking her head Cuddy looked up in the mirror, she saw Rachel laying in her bed and hanging on her little stuffed owl for dear life-

_Good luck with Rachel._

Why had he said that? House was by no mistake one who could go for a generic fake reassurance, let alone a genuine and real display of concern. What had been that for, a twisted and sadistic way to tell her Rachel would have died without his help? Had it been his way to blame her for whatever might have happened to her daughter? Oh, she'd loved to think that! It would have been so easy, much easier than accepting the truth. He meant it, he cared for Rachel's sake careless of the fact he was the one in charge for it or not.

This time when Cuddy looked up she couldn't see her daughter, because of someone standing in her sight and blocking the view. And given her own recent thoughts and the ugly confrontation of before, no wonder the last person she expected to see around Rachel was House himself. Suddenly alarmed, Cuddy, straightened up instinctively grabbing the sink with both hands, anger frying blood in her veins again. She shifted on her feet ready to move and burst out of the bathroom to kick him out, but as she moved she got a larger and better take on the whole picture. When House moved too she felt the sudden need to stay put, and from behind the half closed door she saw him bending down, then rise up and lean on Rachel to her surprise and fear.

"What are you doing here? Didn't you say you were done?" Cuddy barked at him while stepping out of the bathroom, almost running to the bed with a furious glare. "If you want to go, do it. You're good at this and nobody is stopping you-"

It took her way too long to notice the cane wasn't in his right hand as usual, and even more to focus on what he was holding instead. House looked bluntly and empty at her, freezing and looking shamelessly busted and, even more, guilty, when she finally saw the animal toy in his hand.

Cuddy felt her jaw turn into stone and her whole being shrinking out of shame. Gulping down she averted her eyes to look over at Rachel, although she didn't need to check to know the item House had picked up was her daughter's sleeping totem.

Then, things happened one after the other. Cuddy knew they weren't as fast as they appeared, yet it was like a series of flashes: from Rachel awakening and surprisingly not bursting out in a desperate cry for the missing buddy, to the way her tired and sick way she grumbled when she stared at House. From his all too clear uneasiness with the kid, to the unreadable smirk on his and Rachel's face as he goofily put the owl back next to her.


	35. Chapter 35

_Ok, now it's time to remind my kind readers I have no medical background, but I did do my research._

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35

"H-House, I-"

"You're the mother," he said with a flat voice, mesmerized and at the same time terrified by Rachel's stubbornly staring at him, then she finally closed her eyes again. "This kid have been with you since from the first crappy days of her life. Despite everything you raised her as if she was really yours, which means you did it your way. Which means this kid barely knows how animal proteins taste like."

"This," confused, not sure if he deserved a hug or a second slap, Cuddy took one step closer then stopped, shaking her head. "This is not the right moment to mock my food choice, and it's pointless because we did consider the lack of meat as a possible cause and it didn't-"

"But we didn't do it my way. We didn't think the other way around."

He cut her off stepping away from the bed and walking out of the room, followed by an uncertain Cuddy.

"We did think of it House, and we ruled out all the possible side effects of malnutrition, included the ones coming out of excessive dosage of vegetables. What kind of doctor do you think I am?" She asked, anger in her voice slightly tempered by a familiar sensation. "I do know what she needs for a balanced diet, no matter how much vegetables she eats-"

"But she eats a lot." His voice sounded steadier, and he even took a step toward her as he went on. "Vegetables and fruits, in order to keep her diet various and rich I assume."

"Yes, I…I do-"

"Anything exotic? Tropical fruit is rich in natural protein, it has a wider range of nutrient right?" Confused, and a little bit intimidated, Cuddy babbled an answer and nodded a dubious yes. "You don't find that kind of fruit here, it has to be imported."

"Yes, I order the food through my usual grocery store and they take care of everything."

"Do they do the same for other customers?"

"I think so, yes. It's a small grocery but the only one in the neighbourhood, it is a wealthy one, organic products."

"So it could be-"

He muttered to himself averting his attention from her, suddenly lost in his theory as he absently scratched his forehead. Despite the time spent apart, Cuddy immediately recognized it: the epiphany on his face was evident, and comforting, but also veiled with a shadow of doubt she couldn't bear. Wrecked by his abrupt silence Cuddy stepped forward and touched his hand, the skin on skin contact instantly catapulted them back of months, to the moment they've lived a very similar scene, although circumstances couldn't have been more different. Cuddy couldn't tell what was in his mind in that moment, but to think he probably thought of his just passed mother would have been a good guess, and she quickly pulled her hand back. It was like snap him out of sleep, House blinked a couple of times and started to breathe again and straightened up, looking around for a while before speak with a shy voice.

"It could be ascariasis. It's uncommon in North America, but one of the main sources of the parasites is exotic fruit or vegetables," he said in one single long breathe, then sat down on a bench in the hallway and went on looking down at his leg as he rubbed it. "The larvae, ascaris lumbricoides, at the beginning they're located in the respiratory tract, causing chest pain and cough, which matches with Rachel's first symptoms. If there's a high amount of parasites they can spread, they hatch in the small intestine and from there the blood gets them in circle all over the body."

"Why haven't we seen them?" Cuddy asked, still not ready to believe him, and he shrugged.

"At this stage we're still talking about micro-sized bugs, too small to be detached, especially if you're not looking for them. What she had mirrors the stages of development, it takes about two months for the larvae to complete the maturation cycle, which fits with what we found. Sometimes they alter the intestine causing constipation, which can affect the entire system-"

"I wash the fruit House. I check everything myself before feeding her."

"I'm sure you do, but you can't be entirely sure of how the products are treated before they get in your kitchen. It's a matter of probabilities," he explained standing up, heavily leaning on his cane as he stood a bunch of steps away from her. "Parasites grow in the ground along with the food. No matter how controlled it is, Rachel eats a lot of that. Higher exposure, higher risk of consequences." His apparent random wander brought him to the door of Rachel's room. "At least it's something-"

Cuddy felt she wasn't supposed to hear those last words, not so weak and desperate. She could have spent ten years without seeing House, but she'd always been able to read him like an open book. And she knew he didn't believe in his own theory as much as he'd wanted to. It was an idea, boy it was, but based on something he usually didn't rely on: probabilities and coincidences. Yet, he was so desperate to come up with something, for her daughter… But he was right about one thing: he might not dare to say it straight in her face but it was indeed something. Cuddy felt he was ashamed to offer her such an unstable and cracking option, but the more she looked at him, unsure of himself as she'd never seen him, the more she felt she had to trust him.

Because for the first time in days it wasn't about explain or look for something, one way or the other it finally was about do something.

"Listen…I know it's a long shot-"

"What's the treatment?" House looked at her as if he'd just seen a ghost, but she tried to ignore his stupor and show him the confidence he didn't have. "If you're right, what should we do?"

"It can-" Words struggled to come out, it became easier just when she freed him from her eyes. "It can be treated with specific antibiotics, like Pirantel pamoato. But if there are too many parasites and the development is advanced we should remove them surgically."

There it was, the deceitful catch waiting behind the corner. Was that the reason why he had hesitated so much? He knew that diagnosis would have dragged them back to square one, to the prospective of having to open Rachel, which she had already refused? Maybe, or maybe not. Maybe he just hoped drugs could do the deal. Whatever the reason there she was, back on being the one forced to make the call: why it seemed so much easier that time, she couldn't have said.

"Start with the Pirantel," she said then talking to House's back, then she passed by him to enter the room. "We'll wait eight hours, if she doesn't get better we'll do the surgery."

That said Cuddy entered the room and closed the door, and before she could take her spot next to Rachel again House was already gone.


	36. Chapter 36

_Ready or not..._

* * *

36

Later that day, when the warm lights of dusk started to paint the sky outside of PPTH world, House was lying sleepless on the couch in Wilson's office, hands joined behind his head and eyes glued to the ceiling. It usually was the other way around, but his heart was a confused mess of thoughts while no emotions were processed by his mind. Which, he'd bet, in that moment looked like a black screen with a white countdown passing by.

With a creepy timing, a bunch of minutes after the imaginary time expired a quite real Wilson opened the door, standing on the entrance as if that wasn't even his office.

"They're preparing her for surgery."

He said nothing more, not that there was much more to say anyway, then waited for House's reaction. But nothing came, so after a blink of eye he barely saw the oncologist leaving the room. When the door was closed again House finally seemed to be able to react, although he didn't do much more other than sighing and moving his hands from behind his head to rest them on his chest. Silent, he looked down at his own hands, the way they slowly and rhythmically rose and came down within his breath, waiting for something to happen somewhere in his mind.

She had picked, eventually. When she had told him to try the drug first he had thought both dean and mom were speaking, which had him lean then on thinking the doctor have finally come out of the hole.

But truth was different. He gave it one long and elaborate thought, helped out by the deep silence of Wilson's office, and no matter from which angle he studied it there wasn't a single answer, no right one. Being the dean, she had to secure patients and doctors at the same time, overseeing every procedure in order to avoid useless risks. The doctor cared for the diagnosis to be confirmed as a matter of professional pride and for the treatment to work, while the mother…all she wanted was to get over with it and bring her kid home. He'd been wrong, he'd told her those identities would have crashed, but he should have known better. Cuddy wasn't like him, she could juggle them all because they all had the same goal. And, unlike him, she had as possible outcome something better than 100% sure death.

Time slipped away as much as his own thoughts, God there was really nothing he could get hold of recently! House sighed heavily and stood up, standing in front of the glass door of the balcony, studying how the night landed on the hospital. More or less 24 hours before he was dying to leave, about to literally, run away and hide again, and yet there he was, still there and- His left hand went for the doorknob, for a moment he wished to find it closed so he could have gotten the sign he was looking for and stop. Yet he was strangely relieved to find the way clear. The air of the upcoming night wrapped him but he couldn't tell if it was cold or warm. Barely aware of his own feet House stepped in the balcony and headed straight in front of him, and with a few steps reached the entrance of what used to be his conference room.

_Since when nobody locks the door anymore?_ He asked himself when he found that one open too, inhaling a long deep breath as he entered the room. The smell of coffee hit him first, his sensitive nostrils registering they still had the coffee machine they used when he had left, since he could detach the hint of burnt coffee of a long time used machine. Curious, House spotted his red mug ceremoniously put upside down and he didn't need to come any closer to know it was dusted. But the rest wasn't. The only thing covering the glass of the table were the copies or Rachel's folder, the coats and jackets on the hanger, the bunch of letters and envelopes on the spare desk with the computer, the flashing lights on the phone and fax machine. They've been there, not just for that case but all along since he had left: the place was too tidy and organized to have been just randomly used to work those days. A smile came to his lips and he didn't know exactly why. He'd never asked Wilson what they've been up to all those months, and the oncologist haven't told, but he was somewhat pleased to find out.

As for his office though…

The darkness was stunning, all blinds were closed, and the few slits of lights were obscured by the dust of the time spent with nobody occupying the room. In the obscurity of what used to be his office, and for a second strangely felt still his, it took a while to House to distinguish the silhouettes of the items in the room. The furniture, the desk, the long chair and the ottoman, the shelves, all sleeping under the heavy and aseptic cover of a thick sheet of plastic. His office, his domain, froze in time and inviolate. Yet, the smell he could detach, along with dust and plastic, was the stinging one of the cleaning products and ammonia which had been used to keep the place somewhat alive.

He looked down at the long chair, suddenly feeling the need to sit down and check if it still had the shape of his ass, then glanced over at the spot on the wall almost wormed out by all the times his giant tennis ball had bounced on it. A wider smile came up to his face at the silly memories, but then he heard footsteps on the carpet coming from the conference room behind. House froze on his feet when the unmistakable scent hit his nostrils, and he closed his eyes and inhaled it deeply before turning around. He knew he wouldn't have been able to do anything like that, anything at all, while facing her.

Cuddy was standing on the door between the two rooms and he was glad to see, if anything, being there was affecting her as much as him. She was still wearing the same clothes of the morning, which didn't surprise him, but her face was nowhere near the determined and confident one that had so familiarly instructed him a few hours before.

"They're still in the middle of surgery," she announced with a shaky voice.

She didn't feel like looking at him, and he was dying to sit down behind the desk, feeling almost naked with no protection of sort, although he doubted a random feng-shui move could have helped anyway.

"There have been some problems, bugs are everywhere and she had-" Cuddy took a deep breath chocking down a sob, but quickly recovered passing one hand in between her hair. "She had internal bleeding, but they got it and…it should be over soon. Then-"

"She went into surgery with a compromised system, we let this weaken her defences. We should have done this before, you waited too long." There was a flinch in Cuddy's eyes and jaw, House had to bite his tongue for his own words and looked for a way out, turning around and approaching the wall to lean his back on it, looking down at his feet as he shook his head muttering bitterly. "Apparently I can't help but insulting you."

"That is you," she huffed absently, then she leaned with her back on the glass wall. "Always saying the right thing in the wrong way, being right and wrong at the same time."

"I don't think this is the right moment for a trip down memory lane," House muttered in a low voice. "Save the payback from when your kid will be fine, it will give you more satisfaction."

"This isn't about payback House," she said shaking her head, slightly frustrated at his approach. "Do you really think I'd brag about something like this hiding behind my daughter?"

"No," he whispered, then slowly slid down till he was sitting on the floor bending his legs. "But you should."

"Like that would make me feel any better, not if something goes wr-" Cuddy bit at her bottom lip, cursing her own choice of words and shrugging them away waving one hand in the air to brush them off. "It…it doesn't matter-"

"I love you."

House's words dropped in the dark room like an atomic bomb, their effect blowing and spreading swallowing everything else around like the proverbial and lethal mushroom. The only reason why Cuddy was able to look at him was that she'd been so floored she couldn't take her eyes off of him. She felt…everything: from her own heart, and most likely his too, to their breaths, hers ragged and short all of sudden and his slow and regular. All the small sounds around them, the ones ears usually don't get but brain processes anyway, suddenly amplified and loud, way too loud, pounding inside her head. When Rachel had gotten sick, she'd thought her whole world was falling apart, but that… Yet there he was, sitting on the floor and looking up at her with those puppy innocent eyes, as if he's just said the most natural and harmless thing in the world, staring childishly at her as if he couldn't see what an impact his words had.

And with no intention to stop there at all.

"I love you and it doesn't matter. That's what I had to convince myself of, all these months. Watch but not see, holding back words, ignore feelings…thinking it was for my best, maybe even for yours. Then I couldn't do it anymore. You know, I've always been good at this, lying to myself about these things. But I had to pass on this one."

He had spoken as in one single beat, the few and short pauses adding nothing but heavy weight to the atmosphere and although it seemed to Cuddy he could have gone on forever he just stopped. How could he keep looking up at her just like that Cuddy couldn't tell, but she did know there was no way she could come up with anything barely coherent unless he'd broke that immobilizing spell coming within his stare. And he didn't look like he meant to look away, up to him being so stubborn about that right there and then after all the efforts he'd put in avoid her and stay away from her in any possible way and means.

Feeling on the edge of a nervous breakdown, which would have been long overdue to be fairly honest, Cuddy figured out it was up to her sort herself out. She still had no clue about how to do it, but sure as hell first thing was to free herself from his waiting gaze so she sighed and stepped away from the wall approaching the window. Guided by a sharp line of light coming from outside Cuddy stood there, feeling safer thank to the desk in between them, still unable to look at him but at least with her voice finally back.

"I broke up with Lucas." She said out of the blue, not really sure that was the appropriate answer to his question until she realized there had been no real question in his speech.

"I know."

He really had to stop doing that, drop words like that to her playing dices with her sanity…

"How?" she asked in a whisper, then turned around to look at him right on time to see him shrug, careless, and Cuddy herself suddenly felt it wasn't that big much of a deal.

"Your daughter is sick, you've been here since then and your boyfriend never showed up."

"Fair point…" Cuddy mumbled, suddenly feeling a little stupid and ashamed, then gave again her back to him and tilted her chin up "Why didn't you say anything?"

Unseen, House shrugged again and sighed stretching his leg down on the floor, throwing his head back then looking in her direction, pointing out merciless.

"Why didn't you?"

Figure out what he was really talking about, what she was really talking about was hard to say. Layers, angles, double meanings…all of that used to be part of their lives on daily basis since from day one, how could they delude themselves into thinking the meaning of those words could be just one plain and simple? What was that? An offer, a provocation, an attempt to rebuilt or built out new? Or just what it looked like, a simple curiosity?

Because whatever the reason, answer would have been a huge game changer and none of them was up to play. Not there and then, not with Foreman standing on the door to announce surgery was over.


	37. Chapter 37

_I see you found the previous chapter interesting: House spilled the guts about his feelings, Cuddy revealed what happened with Lucas. However, those things don't really matter though, not until we know what's going on with Rachel_

* * *

37

The human alley of people who welcomed her when she stepped out of the elevator scared the hell out of her at first. The surgical equip still dressed and lined up on the left, and House's team trooped on the right, did look like they were there to catch her in case she fainted. But she swallowed down, relying on the calm with which Foreman had guided her there. Cuddy gathered her strength and tilted her chin up, and as she passed by everybody she started to get them: the smiles behind the masks, the relief in people's eyes, the calm their bodies communicated. And by the time she met up with Dr. Prescott, who had performed the surgery, she was breathing normally again.

"We found all the insects and removed them," he told her barely containing his smile, "We got the bleeding under control and gave her blood, now we'll keep giving her a full cycle of antibiotics and Pirantel. But," he paused and held his index up, carefully preventing Cuddy from voicing out her gratitude and joy, "I'm afraid there's something you won't like."

"W-what? I don't understand."

"You'll have to hold back exotic fruit and vegetables for a while," he explained, speaking as serious as a heart attack and failing to see the panic he had brought up to her face. "She was really compromised, she's going to need more protein, animal protein-"

"I think…I can deal with that. No problem." Cuddy finally managed to put together a whole sentence, her heart beating faster but still calm. "How is she now? Can I see her?"

"She's still sleeping, but you can go in."

"Thank you Scott, thank you very much." A wide smile on her face, Cuddy turned around and looked and each and every one of them, grateful. "Thank you all."

Wilson, Chase, Taub, 13, Foreman: her gaze examined them along with everybody else, and they all silently answered back at her with smiles of their own and nods. At least until she landed her eyes on House. He had followed her and Foreman, but whatever his reaction might have been there was no trace of it on his face. He was silent and calm, like he'd been the whole time in his office, and even if he was standing there, right before her, Cuddy could have easily mistaken him for a ghost. Yet, in that moment, with the best of all news just delivered to her, Cuddy felt like believing in ghosts and gave House a small yet eloquent nod.

The crowd around them started to leave, glad they've been helpful but knowing it was time for them to move on to other patients. Everybody left, included the team: Wilson followed them, but with the corner of his eyes he caught House's movements. The oncologist stopped and looked back at his friend, ready with an inspiring version of his own "you made it again": but when he saw House, he noticed his friend was entangled in some deep and serious staring contest with Cuddy. Then House finally moved, Cuddy gave him one last look before heading to Rachel's room and eventually House…followed her?

Appalled, Wilson blinked to focus on the view but it was happening for real. Slow and unsure, House walked in Cuddy's direction, his limp so heavy the oncologist had to wonder if he was doing the right thing. But he had no way to tell him, House was too far away and Wilson thought he should have dealt with it on his own. One way or the other, he'd gotten himself there: now it was up to him carry it on from there.

* * *

Once he stood on the door of Rachel's room, House knew he'd gotten it all wrong: being there was with no doubt the one thing he shouldn't have been doing. If anything because he had no idea why Cuddy had asked him to join her, even more when he looked at how deeply focused on her daughter she was. Holding her hand, caressing her hair with soothing and lulling whispering words, he had to wonder if he hadn't seen a call that hadn't been there.

Thank to Cuddy's display of relief and affection to her daughter, at least House had the time to rethink what he had said to her in his office. Well, what the hell was he thinking? He wasn't surprised by the "I love you" part…sure, that might not have been the best moment to spill the guts, but what had really shocked him had been the following. The talk, extremely odd one about Lucas: why had he felt the need to say that, to provoke Cuddy like that and engage her in yet another of their sick games? Wilson was right, at least for part of it: that endless match was exhausting, and he had to give it a closure in order to go back to the life he had rebuilt himself in Lexington. However, he was wrong about having to wrap things up with Cuddy. He had no time nor strength to do that, and with Rachel being safe there was not even the need for it anymore.

"Hei sweetie!" Cuddy's voice woke him up, he blinked and focused seeing her lean on Rachel, the girl moving in the bed and slowly coming out of the drug induced sleep. "Mommy is here Rachel, I'm here honey."

From his spot House could see nothing but Cuddy's back, and just a glimpse of Rachel's face, but it didn't bother him. After all, it wasn't his place to be anyway, and at least he was glad Cuddy couldn't see the relieved smile on his face. Silent, holding his breath, House motioned to step back and leave, when a bubbling sound came from behind Cuddy.

"Shhh Rachel, stay calm ok honey?" She urged to say, trying to keep the girl down on the bed. House had to look, impressed by the kid's stubborn and insisting fidgeting. "Rachel, don't move. You're going to be ok but you have to rest. Mommy is here with you."

Yeah, mommy was there and Cuddy could tell how happy and grateful Rachel was, by the sparkling light in her tired eyes. However, it didn't take long to the dean of medicine to realize something else was catching her daughter's attention. Although she didn't feel like indulging on her recovering daughter's behave, Cuddy liked even less the idea to see her get even more upset, so she focused on the trail indicated by the kid's gaze, frowning when she realized Rachel was undoubtedly looking at House. And he should have noticed it too, at least judging by the way he paled instantly standing on the door. But Cuddy smiled at him, and waved one hand to call him closer when Rachel tried to stretch one arm toward him.

Unsure and kind of scared, House looked at Cuddy although trying not to: the smile on her face put him so unease, but there was something in the way the kid kept looking at him… He stepped forward carefully, feeling his legs as if they were made of stone, and when he reached the bed both he and Cuddy awkwardly realized they had no clue about what to do next. On the other hand, Rachel did seem to have a plan. When House was close enough, she looked like she wanted to stand up and Cuddy urged to hold her down, but had to pull back her hands when to her major surprise House took charge. To be honest, when Cuddy looked at him his hands were shaking and he didn't seem that confident. House seemed hypnotized by the way Rachel was looking at him and held her, gently helping her into a sitting position. Cuddy could tell her daughter was struggling with all that activity, but she looked like she was on a mission: once she was settled, she stretched one arm to House and he bent down still not daring to touch her. House was aware of Cuddy's inquiring gaze digging in the back of his neck, but somehow Rachel's gentle one felt even more powerful on him. Not biological daughter his ass! That kid was onto something, and she had no intention to let it go. He came so close to her he held his own breath, and when their faces were inches away from each other Rachel caught him off of guard, throwing her arms around his neck and nose-diving in it.

"What the f-" He muttered in shock, his body tensing as he tried not to collapse down on the kid. "Cuddy, your kid is creeping me out."

"She's smelling you," Cuddy nonchalantly said, repressing an amused smile.

"I can see that, and that's what creeps me out," he whispered again in between his teeth, tensed like a violin chord.

"She's testing you." House's eyes flickered to her and she shrugged. "She likes to smell people, if she likes the way they smell she believes they're good people."

"Yeah, you're right…not creepy at all."

Eventually, the examination came to an end. Rachel gave him one last deep sniff then pulled back, leaving House suddenly realizing not only he was anxiously waiting for the response, but he was also dying to pass the test. Then a smile came up to Rachel's face, she nodded and swung her tiny hand in the air patting his face in an all too familiar way.

"You smell good," she ruled then in a sleepy voice, giving back to House the faculty to breathe. Then, just like kids can do, she brushed the moment away and looked over at Cuddy, suddenly exhausted. "Mama, home?"

"Yes, yes Rachel." House moved away from Rachel and Cuddy stepped forward, cupping her face and smiling at her while caressing her cheek. "I'll take you home soon honey, but you have to sleep now, ok?"

"'Kay mommy," Rachel murmured, now leaving her mother the lead to lay her down in the bed and tuck her in.

Cuddy had a feeling the smile on her face would have never left. Even knocked down like that Rachel was simply adorable, and she realized she could spend time watching her sleep without fearing she might not wake up anymore. Mesmerized by the view, amazed by how kids could get through the worst things of life barely noticing, Cuddy stroke her hands gently until she knew Rachel was deep asleep. When she looked back, behind her where House had been standing, Cuddy couldn't tell how much time had passed, but sure enough for him to leave.


	38. Chapter 38

_A litte Cuddy/Wilson time_

* * *

38

"You should go home now."

"I don't think so."

"It's over. What good would do you to stay any longer?"

"You're kidding me right?"

"Just saying there's no need for you to stay anymore."

"This is exactly where I'm supposed to be, right now."

"You seemed…quite eager to leave."

"I was. Doesn't mean I want now."

"You had your reasons."

"And now I have mine to stay. This is my place to be, it will always be."

He opened his mouth but he had exhausted all things to say, there were no weapons he could use against such fortified defences, and eventually he just caved. Shrugging, Chase gave his boss one last look and smiled when Cuddy went back to caressing her daughter's cheek, then sighed and left.

Things have gone smoothly after the surgery, post-op had been good and they have moved Rachel to the pediatric yard, more comfortable and less depressing. That would have been the perfect moment for Cuddy to take a break, Rachel was still on heavy medication and knocked down like a lethargic bear, and the mother herself had implied it was time for her to go home, take a shower, maybe sleep and eat something. She knew she should have and didn't need people to tell her, but stay at Rachel's bedside knowing she would have been ok was something she couldn't get enough of.

Walking down the hallway Chase met up with Wilson and 13, they both gave him a questioning look and he could do nothing but enlarge his arms and shook his head.

"She's not going anywhere," he explained, then added in a mutter. "Unless we have security drag her out."

"I don't think they will anyway," 13 said. "She' would fire them."

"She needs to rest and go home for a while, she's been here for a week," the oncologist wined shaking his head. "There's a whole hospital checking on Rachel, she can grant herself a break."

"Problem is she knows she can. She just doesn't want to."

"Well," Wilson muffled nodding at Chase's statement, "I'm gonna make another attempt. You guys better go home and rest, we all should."

13 and Chase didn't need him to repeat it, all of them were glad Rachel was safe but some rest was needed. The two doctors took off then, greedy to leave and pass the word to the others, leaving Wilson alone and wondering how he could have pulled that one out. Have Cuddy do what she didn't feel like to was hard enough, not to mention that wasn't the only issues he had to deal with.

House was gone. He had seen his friend follow Cuddy's silent and invisible call and then nothing, the oncologist haven't even thought about waiting for him, but when they've moved Rachel House was nowhere to be seen. On a pure logical level, Wilson knew he couldn't get hold of both.

He needed to set up priorities. Walking down the hallway, the oncologist figured in that case both subjects probably wouldn't have wanted to listen to him anyway, but he thought at least Cuddy would have let him speak, if anything out of politeness. Wilson reached the room and knocked softly; Cuddy stirred on the chair and looked up at him with a knowing smile, inviting him in.

"Your turn?" She asked as he stood before the bed.

"Well, they called the pro." They both chuckled, then Wilson nodded down at Rachel. "How is she doing?"

"She's doing fine, which you know. Otherwise you wouldn't be here to tell me to go home."

"What if I," he offered, walking around the bed to take a seat in the chair next to her, "ask how you're doing, for a change?"

"I'm relieved, happy, tired…ha, never said I wasn't," Cuddy pointed out as he tried to jump in. "And I have this strange feeling now. My life have been filled by my daughter being sick for so long and now-" she shook her head and sighed, speechless for a moment. "Now I have nothing to worry about and you know what? This is exactly how I felt before this whole thing started. One day there was nothing to worry about and the day after-"

"And you're afraid…if you stop worry something bad will happen again?"

There was no trace of mocking nor doubt in Wilson's voice, which was why Cuddy gave him a shy smile and leaned back on the chair, closing her eyes and throwing her head back.

"I think…I just realized there are things I can't control, that I can't prevent. And I don't' like it. Because it's not just about me, not anymore. You know, when you're alone when it's over, it's just that, but- I'm sorry Wilson," she exhaled loud, squeezing his hand in a friendly gesture with a sweet urgency. "What I'm saying doesn't make any sense, and you sure don't need to hear me brag about this."

"It's not bragging, and it does make sense," the oncologist reassured her squeezing her hand back, an absent smile on his lips. "I see this every time one of may patients finds out surgery went well, or treatment is working. Most of the time they've seen death every morning in the mirror, and all of sudden-" He shrugged, the sad knowledge weighting on him for a moment. "I guess sometimes we are more scared by what we already know than by what we don't."

The flinch of Cuddy's hand was quick and passing, Wilson felt it but his brain didn't register it entirely. When he looked over at Cuddy, her face showed nothing unusual. But he was no fool: he might have been cut off from a lot of the recent events, but the basis were well covered. Something must have happened…but that wasn't his priority: his goal was to get Cuddy home, pulling the plug from those last awful days. Beside, he knew all too well get her to talk would have been highly impossible.

That, of course, didn't mean he couldn't use some leverages of his own.

"Mind if I stay?" He asked then causally, stretching on the chair with a yawn.

"Of course you can stay." She smiled at him, honestly grateful. "It would be nice to have some company for a change. Everybody's been so nervous around me lately."

"No wonder, you're the boss, you're the mom," he listed nonchalantly, looking at her and waiting for when she looked away. "You know, I could use some company too. It's actually good you're not going home so we can chat a bit, it's been a while after all."

The first sign was her jaw clenching, then the bitten lip, after that Cuddy turned in his direction again with a steady face. Then her mask slowly morphed into a questioning expression, followed by a rainbow of feelings displayed on her face, switching from shocked to worried. Then pissed and kind of amused, before choosing for a definitive resigned one.

"This-" Cuddy muttered, the threat in her voice swallowed by the fatigue all of sudden she felt multiplied. "This is blackmail."

"Uhm," he mumbled with a quick shrug, showing her a pleased smirk. "I'd call it an offer."

Cuddy opened her mouth to say something, more likely an insult for his mean behave, but then shut it close and shook her head, huffing. He kept looking at her, his smirk was getting on her nerves but his eyes were sweet, but it didn't erase the trap he had set up for her. Offer, blackmail…point was she could pick: take a break and leave the hospital for the first time in days, or face a curios and well rested Wilson tenaciously on the case about House. And all of a sudden she realized she had no idea how much time had gone since House had left, she actually didn't even remember him leaving, and she knew she had not enough strength to face it.

"You," she hissed at Wilson, pointing a finger at him before standing up, sighing and huffing like a locomotive. "Oh, you're good."

"I learned from the best." He shrugged, then went for the kill. "So?"

Cuddy held his gaze for a bunch of seconds, pissed, then looked over at Rachel still deep asleep but ended up nodding at Wilson.

"You'll have to give me a drive. But," she pointed out vehemently, "no talking."

Standing up Wilson gestured to zip his lips closed, however curled up in a wide smile. He then patiently waited for her to share a silent and sweet goodbye with her daughter. They headed out together, silent, stopping at Cuddy's office so she could grab the purse and the coat that haven't being used in a week. On their way out, they spotted 13 and Chase, surprised and relieved to see he had succeeded where they've failed, then stepped out. Cuddy had to admit it, the fresh air on her face was a pure bliss and she took a long moment to savour it, glad Wilson kept his mouth shut as promised.

Silence accompanied them to the car too, Cuddy was shocked to find out how tired she was once she sat and the car engine purred under her, but desperately tried to stay awake. Then, as the drive went by silent and quite, she realized postponing sleep wasn't a challenge after all, but actually a task made quite easy by the bugging question in her mind.

"Where did he go?" She asked then out of the blue, surprising Wilson.

"I don't know," the oncologist admitted, with a note of pain in his voice that didn't go unnoticed. "I haven't seen him since after the surgery. I guess he's back at the motel, sleeping."

Focused on the street he still managed to give her a quick look. She felt the questioning of his gaze on her and averted her eyes, curling up on the seat and shrugging.

"I just…I have to thank him."

If she was expecting any reaction from him, he had to let her down. There was nothing he could say without feeling it was the wrong thing. And he cowardly hid behind his silence vow, sparing himself a difficult conversation he was neither ready nor eager to face.


	39. Chapter 39

39

Her break ended up being quite frantic and busy, not exactly what her doctor and friend had suggested.

Once inside her place, taking a minute to let the familiar environment wrap her, Cuddy stood on her threshold breathing slowly. When she heard Wilson's car drive away, she started listing in her mind all the things she was supposed to do. Eat, shower, rest: in whatever order she'd liked the best. Instead, she ended up disobeying herself, partially at least. She kicked her shoes off, the floor tickled her bare feet as she made her way to the bedroom leaving behind clothes, still shrugging her skirt off of her ankles while opening the tap of the shower. While browsing her options, Cuddy had decided shower was not questionable: she could use some water and soap if she planned on walking among humans again. Moreover, it provided her with more time to ponder on her next move.

Dripping wet from tip to toe, Cuddy jumped out of the shower, on her way to the kitchen she grabbed her phone and while fishing in her fridge for something quick to eat she called the motel House was staying at. With a stone cold - and probably partially rotten - bagel stuck in her mouth, Cuddy went back to her bedroom to get dressed. Just a bit more than an hour after she'd stepped inside, she left her place again. While driving to the motel she realized with a shiver she couldn't tell what she really wanted, to find him or not: on the other hand, she wasn't sure of what she might have told him. God knew, maybe after all she should have said nothing at all-

She parked the car in front of the reception, staring at the motel rooms lined up right one after the other, taking a big deep breath. Then she realized her plan had yet another leak: she hadn't asked House's room number, and now that she was there she didn't feel like asking the reception either. She had the unsettling feeling they would have told her he was already gone, which left her in a crappy stalling situation. Fortunately for her, in that moment the cleaning lady came out of a room pushing her cart. Cuddy sighed and adjusted her clothes, more out of habits than anything else since she was wearing just jeans and shirt, then approached the woman and asked about House.

And that was how Cuddy eventually found out what she wanted: because when the woman told her the man she was looking for, "the tall one with a cane, yeah that one" had checked out hours before, the dean of medicine felt lost. And tired, so incredibly tired. All of sudden the shower she had taken seemed too quick, the food too few, the sleep she was missing way too much, and her despair grew inside her. Shaking her head, Cuddy muttered a thank for the lady and slowly walked back to her car, she dropped on the driver seat but had not enough strength to drive. Crushed, Cuddy left the door open and sat, stretching her legs out of the vehicle, trying to think about her next move.

But when she realized she had none, and she should have probably just gone back to the hospital, a human silhouette appeared on the ground and entered her sight.

"He's gone," Wilson said when she looked up at him, glaring at the oncologist for stating the obvious.

Not that he seemed to care much anyway. In fact, he shrugged and approached her slowly, leaning with his back on the car and folding his arms.

"Reception said he checked out about five hours ago, paid cash and called a cab," he said in a flat voice, then snorted. "And left a note."

Cuddy's face lightened up at those words, she looked up at him and took the paper he was handling her. Wilson didn't seem willing to tell her anything about it, so she took it and flip it open, holding her breathe and then groaning when she read the message.

_Don't freak out, I'm fine._ It was written on the first line, scribbled as if House had been in a hurry. However, the second part of the message was steadier and clearer. _Not enough cash for the mini bar._

There was something funny, very "Houseian "in that note. Cuddy could almost hear his voice, dismissively dropping those sentences to Wilson: after all, it wouldn't have been much different from the one he had used with her in his office. Yet she couldn't enjoy it, there was no bittersweet for her but just bitter, and Cuddy knew it came from the fact House's mind wasn't tuned on her the moment he wrote that.

"Let him go Cuddy. You needed him, he came…Rachel's fine now. Let him go back to his life."

Cuddy wasn't surprised by those words, the fact he was being so gentle and calm did nothing but make them even more serious and true. Which made her position suck big time.

"I don't think I can Wilson," she admitted painfully, curling up on herself. "Not now, not this time."

"You did once. It was his call to leave and letting him go was the right thing to do." The oncologist insisted, his soft tone getting on her nerves already. "All you have to do is back off again Cuddy."

"It's not that simple Wilson. It's not the same."

"Why not?" If Cuddy hadn't known him any better, she'd said his voice was growing with anger now, and impatience, as if he was struggling to contain himself. "Because he saved your daughter's life as you asked him to? Because he helped despite this was so personal? Because this time you don't have a boyfriend to go home to anymore?" He had hit a soft spot there, to say the least, and he looked like he didn't give a damn about her outraged reaction. "This is the point Cuddy, it might not be the same for you, but there's nothing different for him."

Cuddy felt the need, almost physical, to get a break from that conversation. She was losing track of it and she realized she had not enough elements to carry on with it. She didn't know what Wilson knew of what she did know about her last confrontation with House, and she had no idea what Wilson did or didn't know about House's life since from when he had left PPTH. Too many shadows and dark spots, it was like walking around a minefield, blindfolded and deaf, jumping on one foot. And worst thing was Cuddy felt like she was not in the right position to ask for any indication.

Not that she didn't deserve some, even Wilson in full protective mode couldn't deny her that: but more than anything Cuddy knew she simply wasn't brave enough to ask.

Silence dusted down around Cuddy, having heard nothing but artificial sounds muffled by the hospital walls in the past days any other noise seemed strange to her ears. She closed her eyes and focused on the world around them. There was a cricket nearby which reminded her, with the sudden and sharp violence of a teaser gun, it's been almost a year since House had left. He had a new place, a new city, a new job and a new boss, some sort of renewed family and maybe some new friends…and what had she got?

It might have not worked for him, not entirely maybe, but at least he'd given it a shot. He had tried, and she couldn't say the same for herself. He had risked, maybe not gained much but sure not lost anything, while she… She felt like she was close to lose something without even trying. And Lisa Cuddy didn't do that, she wouldn't go down without fighting.

"You're right, for me it's not the same," she said then. She spoke softly and Wilson looked at her, chin tilted up, eyes closed and a weird smile on her lips. "I'm different, which makes it different for him too."

"Logic," Wilson chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. "I'm sure House would appreciate it, but it doesn't always work. Not even for him."

"I know." Cuddy agreed, she stood up and shoot him a challenging yet soft gaze. "But it's worth a try."

Wilson found himself unable to sustain Cuddy's gaze. It wasn't hard or harsh, nor heavy, but in the last days every time he had looked in her eyes he had seen nothing but fear and doubts. But then it was back, the strength and confidence that belonged to her, and he didn't know how to fight it back.

Assuming he had to.

Wilson sighed and sunk his hands in his pockets, looking up at the sky above them. Then he shrugged, not so long before he was fired up, but in that moment to Cuddy's eyes he looked like he wasn't interested in the conversation anymore. As to confirm that to a frowning Cuddy, Wilson pulled away from the car and took a couple of steps, heading to his own vehicle. Puzzled, Cuddy babbled something but no real words as she watched him leave, resting her hands on her hips and shooting his back and outraged glare.

"You know," he said then, absently answering her silent and daring request for explanations as he was about to disappear from her sight, "I wonder why he never sold his place…"


	40. Chapter 40

_If you liked some Cuddy/Wilson time, you will probably enjoy this one_

* * *

40

It felt good, familiar to a point it was almost painful. Yet-

The sensation under his fingers, the responses his hands could so easily get, the feeling to be in control and create something so powerful. He kept playing, sliding on the keys randomly, his eyes closed wondering how the hell he could have made it, surviving without his piano for such a long time. The guitars have followed him in Lexington when he had moved, but he hadn't felt like moving his buddy too. The piano had been in that place for such a long time House thought it kept it together more than its foundation. That of course was the dumb justification, the serious and real one being he knew the moment he'd moved that too, everything would have been definitive.

"Um Mr-"

The mover was still standing on the door, uncomfortable since while in the middle of their arrangement the man had blacked out, sitting behind the piano to play. Shook out of his thoughts House stopped his hands, he looked up at the guy questioning him with curios look and fidgeting with the clipboard in his hands.

"What?" House asked then, trying to dismiss his surprise.

"Just checking," the mover said, reading his notes. "We have boxes for books, CDs and LPs. Nothing from the kitchen?" Still a bit appalled, House nodded yes. "And the clothes and shoes, right?"

"Yes."

"Ok, so…anything else"?

House stood and picked up his cane, looking around his half-packed up place before brushing the piano keyboard one last time.

"Yes," he said again in a low voice, playing a single note with a smirk. "This."

"Piano, ok."

He scribbled down on his notes adding the last items to the list, then checked with House the address where everything had to be delivered. He approached House and handled him the form to sign, then stepped out of the apartment and waved his hand to the two movers waiting in the threshold, motioning them to come in and pick up the boxes ready to pick up and measure the piano. That was what Cuddy saw when she arrived at House's place, and the parade of movers coming out of the building scared the hell out of her. Almost running to get inside, she stumbled on a couple of men, dribbling them and the boxes they were carrying too puzzled and worried to ask for explanation. Too afraid to find out it was too late, again.

But it wasn't, and as she had previously thought once she saw House standing in the middle of his living room, Cuddy couldn't tell is she was happy or not about it.

He didn't notice her at first. After all he had no reasons to expect her to be there and he seemed deeply lost in his own world, too much to register things happening around him. She took plain advantage of the moment. There have always been something magic in the way he acted when he thought nobody was watching, like in that moment, wandering around almost afraid to touch his own belongings. Having no clues of what was about to happen, Cuddy felt the need to enjoy that as long as she could.

Eventually, House came back to the real world, one in which he had planes to catch and less complicated lives to go back to. Cuddy saw him sigh and shrug, then he turned toward the door and their eyes met.

"Hei." Cuddy urged to say, afraid any hesitation might have been lethal.

And she was not wrong, because House seemed shocked to find her there. He gasped, suddenly averting his eyes and stepping back for what seemed to be a quick retreat in the kitchen. Determined to finish what she had started, although she didn't know exactly what she had started, Cuddy closed the door behind her and stepped in the living room. She didn't venture any further, staying there and carefully watching from a safe distance as he poured himself a glass of water from the sink.

"Hi," he finally answered then, standing on the kitchen door and shyly looking at her. "How's the brat?"

_Back to the brat,_ Cuddy thought, but chewed her lips to hold it back.

"She's doing fine." Was her quick and relived answer, then she looked around the place swallowing a lump of oddness. "You're packing."

"Yes," he said immediately, contaminated by the same urgency she had to fill the silent gaps before it could be too late, "'Couple of things I left here, I want to bring them home."

"So you're leaving, again." And again, hers was not a question but a statement, to which House answered with a blank stare and clenching his hands around the glass. The gesture didn't go unnoticed to Cuddy, who shook her head and huffed ranting out all of sudden. "This is ridiculous House, this stupid…chewed conversation, since we both know why we're here."

"Well Cuddy, I know why I'm here," he muttered, then drank his water and added. "I know why you shouldn't be here."

"I've been told what to do for the past hours House, you don't get your turn at this."

"That goes the other way around too," House pointed out placing the empty glass on the now empty shelves, leaning on it for support. "I don't think you're entitled to-"

"I am," she claimed fiercely, stepping toward him and catching the fear in his eyes. "I earned the right the moment you told me you love me."

He should have known better to keep his mouth shut as he did, and Cuddy wasn't surprised when he gave her his back, facing the window and looking for a way out he knew he didn't have. They both knew tables have turned, until then one way or the other House have been in the dominant position, but now it was Cuddy's turn to drive, no matter the finale direction. He knew it too, Cuddy could feel him tense as the knowledge he could do nothing but spar with her settled down in his mind. She hated to see him that way, so she opted for a different approach.

"I broke up with Lucas. It was no longer after you left-"

"You don't owe me this explanation Cuddy, I don't care." House was desperately trying to stop her, He felt he couldn't let her keep bringing on that over and over again, he was too exposed. "None of my business."

"You never offered me a way out, you never gave me a chance." Cuddy carried on, ignoring his not so convinced attempt to fight. "You decided we were done. You said we weren't friends anymore but you never thought-"

"I had to look out for myself Cuddy," he hissed, his voice both aggressive and defensive as if he had to show his strengths by admitting a weakness. "I had to-"

"Lucas pitied you."

That seemed to finally stop the chasing of their words, they've talked on each other till then to state their position on the other one, but Cuddy's last statement seemed was so detached from the rest of their conversation that it was impossible for House to jump on it. Baffled, he looked over at Cuddy who was sitting on the couch, her fingers absently toying with the hems of a blanket nearby. She seemed unaware of what she had said, how out of place it sounded to him. She looked up at him with a careless expression, one that looked so much like the one he had before in his office, although they couldn't know, then she took the blanket and covered herself with it curling up on the couch.

"When you left after your mom died, he said he wasn't surprised you left. He said-" Cuddy paused and took in a long breath as to fight back a painful sob. "He thought here was nothing else you could have done after all, running away was your only choice. He said leaving and starting over was an easy way out, the ones you usually go for according to him. He said…he was sorry for you because you had no other option."

She looked like a bug to him, wrapped in that old and shredded blanket she really looked like a chrysalides about to mutate into something else, but he had a feeling he wouldn't have been so lucky to witness the metamorphosis. House felt drowned to her, enchanted by her words because they were so painful for him to listen to as they were for her to say, unable to figure out where she was heading. Had he known she had no clue about that either, House wouldn't have probably let her go on.

"He just…didn't get it. He saw cowardice and resignation where I found-" She was struggling with words, but stopped just to focus and fish for new ones. "We're called to make the hardest calls when we can't chose. As long as we have options to browse everything is easier, but you… Lucas just didn't see this."

"He didn't-" House spoke, his voice rusted as he realized he should have kept his mouth shut. "He didn't know me."

"No he didn't, no matter how many information he might have on you." She cut him off with a soft chuckle, lost in her own thoughts and words. "As a matter of fact, a lot of people who gave judgments on you over the years didn't. Arrogant, jerk, cranky, disrespectful, bold, ingestible, impossible to work with, a pain in the ass to command, drug addict, irresponsible-"

"Well, don't hold back if you don't feel like it!" He muttered, but she didn't pay attention to him.

"-careless, selfish and many other things. But never, not even from your biggest detractors, I've ever heard or sensed pity. Because you didn't deserve it House, and sure you didn't for trying so hard to give yourself a chance. After Mayfield, after your mother's death…the only thing you could do was fight back and you did. For yourself, for-"

His hand came out of nowhere, Cuddy could just see it appear in her sight that there it was, his palm touching her cheek ever so softly she couldn't be sure of it until she looked up at him. And that was the last thing she could be certain of, because the small and last drip of rationality in her left after his touch was taken away the moment she looked up and saw his smile. Wide, sincere, serene, honest, for free. Not that she'd never seen him smile but never like that, never so easily and spontaneously, and sure not during such a conversation.

And that was why she held back, why she didn't let the overwhelming feeling taking control and show on her face, because when it came to him-

"Thanks," he said holding her gaze, and when he started to pull back and Cuddy felt his hand abandon her skin she barely managed not to scream and grab his wrist to stop him. "You should go now."

She couldn't believe he had said that, not for real, she couldn't accept it. Not after she'd shown him her bare soul, not- _No, no House don't go, don't leave me again_! Cuddy wanted to scream when he stepped away from her, the shock all over her face and being as House walked around the couch and limped toward the door, with the clear intention to kick her out, however gently.

"House," she muttered, shaking her head and standing up because she had no intention to sit on her sorry ass and just beg him. "It doesn't have to go this way, not again."

"And how you'd say it should go Cuddy?" He questioned her, a light trace of frustration in his voice underneath the calm surface. "Happily ever after? Me and you? God Cuddy, have you met us?"

"House, you're not getting out of this with sarcasm, I won't let you…no."

Cuddy stepped forward, a few quick steps and she was right in front of him, her hand on his one already twirling the handle for her. Their faces were inches away from each other and their breathes fighting, at least until House pulled back averting his eyes. She hated that: he was a fighter, he was supposed to battle her out. Cuddy touched his face, she actually forced him to look at her again and kept him where she wanted, until she saw his eyes focused and felt him relax, a sign she finally had his attention. She took her time, she softly rubbed his cheek and dared to brush his lips, not surprised when he closed his eyes and tensed. But Cuddy left him time to recover and come back to her, so she could lull him with her eyes until she felt the ground was safe.

Because time had come to go all in for her.

"You said you love me," Cuddy said to him with a soft voice. She felt his hand under hers clench but his face didn't winch and she went on. "You said you love me and it didn't matter. Does it matter now, to you?"

"I need-" His voice came out ragged and tired, he had to remove her hands from his face and finally twirled the handle to open the door. "I don't know Cuddy." _Nothing more unreliable than yours I don't know,_ she thought, but let him go on. "But you're not supposed to be here, your daughter-"

"Speaking of Rachel," Cuddy jumped in, it hurt to see him struggle and she knew since she'd made her point there was no need to push, and she stepped outside the door as she spoke. "She's been asking about you. She wants to thank the man who rescued her owl."

She smiled at him along with those words, a shy yet sincere and amused smile that however crashed on his puzzled face. With a sigh, Cuddy stepped entirely out of his place and took a couple of steps, then stopped and looked at him again, this time with a sad smile on her face.

"If that's what you want House, how it has to be," she bit at her bottom lip, afraid to even phrase that, than she became more serious. "At least this time let me have a proper goodbye."


	41. Chapter 41

41

"No, no Mom. There's no need for you to come- Now, why wouldn't I want you to see her? Of course she's not contagious Mom, it was a parasite- No." Cuddy bit at her bottom lip and repressed a huff, unleashing her frustration by gripping her own hair with her free hand. "I'm following doctor's instruction for the food of course, yes Mom I'm being very careful. I don't need help you know, I'll be home for a few days and I'm gonna take care of everything. I have no doubt you'd be helpful Mom, it's just-" This time Cuddy sighed with no restrain and dropped the polite and dismissive tone. "Listen Mom, I'm just saying there's no need for anybody but me now, I even told Marina not to come. There's not enough to take care of for the two of us, which means we'll have nothing to do but getting on each other's nerves. And I'm sure none of us wants to bitch for nothing with Rachel around." She paused, although she'd had plenty of things to say, instead listening to her mother's reaction. There was only silence at first, but when the older Cuddy spoke a satisfied grin appeared on the younger's lips. "Yes Mom, the weekend would be perfect. See you Saturday."

When she could finally hang up the phone, Cuddy felt her left ear sweaty and slightly warm, she cupped it in her hand and massaged it while leaning back on the chair with a long sigh. While waiting for Rachel to be discharged from the hospital, she had prepared her room, cleaned the whole house from top to bottom, shopped at the grocery to get what doctor have ordered for Rachel's new diet. For good measure, she had also stopped at her office to pick up some paperwork to get done at home. After the phone call with her mother, she deadly envied Rachel for the deep sleep she was enjoying in that moment. Antibiotics had turned out to be quite heavy on her, but as long as regular naps were the only side effects she should worry about Cuddy was more than ok with that.

Cuddy also wished she could do the same, just lay down and switch off her brain and rest. She hadn't lied to her mother, there was not enough work to do for the two of them, because she had done it all already in the vain attempt to keep herself busy, not to think about her match at House's place the day before. Then, when she had found herself sitting on the floor in the living room ordering DVDs alphabetically, Cuddy have had her epiphany: she could do nothing but wait, the ball was not in her court anymore.

Sighing, she sipped her tea and snorted when she found it cold, then she stood up and threw what was left in the sink then headed to check on Rachel. The child was asleep, she looked so peaceful and adorable that Cuddy regretted there was nobody else around to see her. She had to fight back the desire to pick up Rachel and lull her, but she couldn't resist a light caress on the kid's head, smiling at Rachel's sigh. Then Cuddy left, she carefully closed the door and went to the living room, lazily picking up a book and settled on the couch to read it. Despite not being her kind of book she got easily hooked up on it, and when the doorbell rang she put it down with true annoyance. Yet, once she opened the door and found House, she could hardly remember what the story was about.

The first thing Cuddy could think of was that she didn't want to look like a moron standing there, baffled and with nothing to say. However, after a first look at him from tip to toe, rocking on his feet and apparently terrified he had found her at home, she knew if anything they looked alike. Cuddy had thought, some days before when they've first met after all those months, that the atmosphere between them couldn't have been odder. But those seconds with them embarrassingly staring at each other seemed timeless and as heavy as stones.

Then her mouth opened and what came out surprised, and relieved, both of them.

"Coffee?"

House nodded, yet he hesitated to step forward and come inside, at least until she moved, heading to the kitchen. Still feeling inside a dream, if anything knowing she was feeling quite the same, House carefully stepped in and followed Cuddy, looking around as if he feared someone might come out from behind the corner and ambush him. He found her in the kitchen, frantically moving around to prepare some coffee. Although he felt like screaming her to calm down he held it back, he sat down at the table and tried for a different approach, thinking it might have helped both of them.

"You're more of a tea person," he mumbled, Cuddy looked at him with a tensed expression, but relaxed at his grin and shrug. "You do know how to make coffee, don't you?"

There was a hint of smile on her lips, but she fought it back. She wasn't sure she was allowed such display of optimism but it did feel good, that familiar shiver of bantering with him-

"I know it better than you," she answered, going back to prepare the coffee now with a stunning calm, adding with a provoking voice. "Never seen you cooking anything."

_Damn!_ House thought daring a grin of his own unseen by her, absently toying with the cane in his hands_. I should have asked for a beer._

Despite they both tried to think about their next move, once the coffee was ready they were still trapped in that bubble of awkward silence. Cuddy put the mug for him on the table and let him serve himself, but found the strength to sit down in front of him. Silence was so deep they could hear everything around them, everything but their own voices since none of them knew what to say. Eventually, House seemed to remember he had been the one coming to her, the least he could do was give the kick off. It couldn't be that hard, all he had to do was say what he had figured out on his own that morning, when he had woken up after a calm and resting sleep as he haven't had in a while.

"It was nice to hear those things, about my choice to leave," he started. He was looking down at his hand holding the mug, but then all of sudden stared up at her, locking her eyes with his. "I really needed to be told it was the right call. Now I can look back at it with the confidence for once I made the right decision. I've been waiting for a confirmation from someone, from anybody for such a long time-"

"You've never been someone who care for other people's judgment," she said, astonishingly sustaining his gaze.

"I've never been a lot of things Cuddy." House granted her with a sigh, he leaned back on the chair but didn't break the eye contact and instead his stare seemed to be heavier. "And I'll never be a lot more."

Although her eyes never left his Cuddy's head started to shake, just slowly at first but then wide enough for him to see. House saw the look of pure terror on her face, his face stiffened as he realized that, as he had actually expected, she'd immediately picked up where he was heading.

_Well,_ he said to himself clenching his jaw, _at least one of us does._

"You can't." The shaking movement of her head became faster, her mouth contract in a disgusted expression. "You can't do this to me House. You came to me to tell me you love and then you ran away, and now you're here again to tell me…what? That it still doesn't matter? That you still don't know?"

"It's not that simple Cuddy."

"No, the hell is not!" Cuddy blurted out leaning forward, glaring at him with fired up eyes. "You think it is for me, waiting for you to make up your mind, wondering if I'd ever see you again?"

"I didn't promise you anything Cuddy." He urged to say. "I never do."

"No you don't. You never do because then you can't let people down." She scoffed, but then her attitude suddenly changed, her face softened and before House could see it coming Cuddy reached out for his hand around the mug. "I know this House, I know you-"

"Then you should know you can't rely on me, about nothing." He grunted, but to Cuddy's surprise he didn't try to push her away and instead squeezed her hand back, making her feel all his frustration. "This was never meant to last Cuddy. It wouldn't be a good thing now, not like this. I have to go back."

"Back to what House?"

"Cuddy-" He eventually let go off her hand, he hastily stood up and turned around not to look at her. "This is not my place to be anymore, we both know this."

"For God's sake House, stop talking for me too!" She almost yelled as she stood up too, she grabbed him and forced him to turn around backing him up against the wall/ "Will you stop telling me what I have to do, and start asking me what I want instead? This is not a one-way thing House, not anymore, like it or not. Here is where you belong House, with me." Her assault froze, as much as House's entire world when she brushed his lips with her hand. "What about us?"

"There is no us Cuddy." He shrugged, an attempt to jolt himself out of her spell. "Maybe there's never meant to be an us, let's be honest-"

"Honest?" Cuddy repeated, taking advantage of his confused state to come closer. "This is the first time we've been honest with each other in years House, and I won't buy for a second it's just a coincidence."

"And it can't be either we've never even tried to give it a shot Cuddy. We both knew-" he stopped and bit at his lip, moving a couple of steps away from her actually trying to run away. "I'm not going to have this argument with you Cuddy, I don't-this is not what I came for."

"Then why did you come? To prove what, House? That you're right, as always?" She was getting angry, if one of them have had a plan about how things should have gone they would have been both proved wrong. "Or this is what, you running away, again?"

"Pretty sure I heard you say I did the right thing," he hissed sarcastically, snorting loud before she grabbed his shoulders.

"Back then yes, it was. But now…House, I'm not going to let you go."

"You said you wanted a proper goodbye," he shoot back drily, trying to step away, but she didn't let him go. So he tried a different angle and softened his voice. "Cuddy, please…this won't take us anywhere."

"It will if you just let it House."

"Cuddy, I-I-" He closed his eyes and shook his head/ "I can't. I can't."

"Stop saying this House, for God's sake! You're not like this, since when you're this whiny little man, scared of everything?" Cuddy's voice spiked up again, her grip on him heightening. "Man up House, stop running away from good things, you're stronger than this."

"Well maybe I'm not." House blurted out right in her face, shrugging her hands off him. "Sorry to let you down, what are you going to do? Slap me again?"

"Yes." Cuddy muttered grinding her teeth, after fighting his gaze for what seemed an eternity. Then a strange flash crossed her eyes, puzzling House. "Yes, I think I will."

And she did. In a way that hit him deeply and stronger than the smack of a couple of days before. Because she stepped forward, capturing his hands before doing the same with his lips.


	42. Chapter 42

_Getting close to the end, yet still so much to say._

_(The verses here are from Mumford &amp; Sons song "White Blank Page", and I guess you'll see where the inspiration of the story came from)_

* * *

42

**_Can you lie next to her and give her your heart, your heart?_**

**_As well as your body, and can you lie next to her and confess your love, your love?_**

**_As well as your folly and can you kneel before the king and say 'I'm clean', 'I'm Clean'?_**

**_But tell me now where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart?_**

**_But tell me now where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart?_**

**_Her white blank page &amp; a swelling rage, rage_**

**_You did not think when you sent me to the brink, the brink_**

**_You desired my attention but denied my affections, affections_**

**_But tell me now where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart._**

**_Lead me to the truth and I will follow you with my whole life_**

Stuck in his mind, graved with fire like a burning mark on skin. He'd never paid much attention to song's lyrics, the only one that have mattered to him was Jagger's bible, and he usually omitted the second part of the famous sentence. But that one, the one he had heard on the cab radio while going to the airport-

He finally dared to open his eyes, he needed time to adjust them to the unexpected darkness but was soon able to focus on Cuddy's image. It wasn't that hard after all. She was all over him and her face was inches away from his, but it was the best wake up he have had in months, perhaps even in years.

In the deep darkness of the bedroom caught by the night, Cuddy's figure shined of her own light. Careful not to wake her up, House rolled on his side and snuck closer to her, still chewing the lines of the song in his head. Could he do that? Lie next to her and give her his love? Apparently, he could. He'd just done one of the above, and was in the middle in the second one. But that wasn't the real question, those were the easy ones. Point was, could he do it despite what he'd been trough because of her? Despite that endless series of dark places he have been trying to escape from? Well, there he was: holding her possessively, as she had done right before they got lost in the post love-making bliss.

Could he forget and leave behind the pain of rejection, the abandon and sense of having been lost and dismissed, and believe they could get over their past and give a shot to a shared future?

With those questions running through his mind, House looked down at Cuddy: she was smiling in her sleep, and she looked so at ease he could hardly believe she was the same who had been so scared of everything until two hours before.

_Can you lie next to her and give her your heart?_

Oh yes, damn he could to it!

What he sure couldn't do, and was remembered of quite soon when a wailing siren sound came from the baby monitor on the night stand, was taking care of her crying kid. For the most, so far he had seen Rachel asleep, weak and sick, and he was impressed by the power of her tiny lungs. Almost immediately he felt Cuddy stir in his arms, her mother's radar responding to the kid's call.

She opened her eyes, House held his breath wondering what her reaction might have been facing the aftermath, and immediately relaxed when Cuddy granted him with a surprised yet happy smile. Which obviously vanished the moment she registered Rachel's cries, muffled by the speaker, and he felt her body tense when she looked up at him again. House held her gaze, freezing when he saw…what was that light in her eyes, hope? And before she could say something he opened his mouth, muttering while kissing her forehead and sneaking out of the bed.

"I'll start something to eat," he said, softening the urgency in his voice with an honest desire to offer. He quickly jumped in his pants and patted his stomach as it roared softly. "I could use some breakfast."

"Breakfast?" Cuddy snorted, rolling out of the bed to go answer Rachel's call. "Have you looked outside House? If anything it would be dinner."

She was still talking when he came up behind her, Cuddy didn't hear him but felt his arms wrapping her, then his lips on her neck, his voice whispering something she couldn't hear. Then his lips stopped on the crock of her neck, where he blew with a snoring sound.

"Nit-picking," he growled mockingly, then let her go and moved on dressing. "Get the kid, she's probably hungry as much as I am."

He was probably right, which was why Cuddy postponed whatever thought on his behaviour to focus on Rachel. When she left the room House was still hanging around in the dark looking for his shoes, Cuddy smiled and turned on the lights while leaving the room. The girl had calmed down but was awake, and immediately reacted to mom's presence. Cuddy smiled and picked her up ,moving the kid to the changing table to change her diaper. Once she was washed and cleaned, Cuddy realized if Rachel wasn't hungry she wasn't sleepy either, therefore hosted the kid in her arms and headed to the kitchen.

From the hallway she heard House humming a song on his own, along with noises of plates and food frying in the pan, sounds that finally helped Cuddy to relax. She had seen something in his eyes when they had met, but she couldn't tell what. In all honesty, she couldn't say she'd expected him to go all fatherly on Rachel, and if anything it looked like House wasn't planning to leaving anytime soon. Which was a good thing because she didn't want him to go, but she also knew to keep him there would have been as hard as caught him have been.

Slowing her pace and absently lulling Rachel in her arms, Cuddy took her time to savour the moment. It had been a long time since a man had been in her home, let alone in her bed- A flush of redness came to her cheeks when she thought about that, a shameless satisfaction wrapped in blissful memories, and Cuddy hoped the evidence of her remembrance disappeared before House could see it.

Eventually she made it to the kitchen, where found House facing the open fridge with a thoughtful expression. Cuddy stood on the door and watched him with a smile, until Rachel mumbled something and caught his attention. House seemed to tense and stiffen at the sound, but betrayed no real emotion when looked in her direction. Instead he looked both at the daughter and the mother for a bunch of second, then nodded.

"Didn't the doctors tell you to change her diet?" He grumbled and Cuddy nodded, then he did too looking back inside the fridge, disconsolate. "Would have never told-"

"They said she needs to eat more meat," Cuddy explained with a muttered voice of her own, while settling Rachel in her seat at the table. "Not that she had to eat nothing but that."

"Right." House scoffed, then dived in the fridge and came out of it with a pack of filet. "Then I guess you won't mind."

Cuddy actually wasn't sure what to say: she'd never thought about what the "after" might have been like, but she'd never thought of that. Maybe House hadn't either, but he seemed nevertheless more comfortable and receiving no answer he served himself, he closed the fridge and went back to the stoves. Cuddy approached him with the intention to put on some tea for herself, but noticed with a smile House had already taken care of that, along with a bowl of salad with roasted breath he had set on the counter. Apparently failing to see, but more likely intentionally ignoring her pleased look, House unwrapped the meal snorting as he held with two fingers one thin slice of meat, then shrugged and tossed a couple of them into the pan.

As soon as the meat started to sizzle and House began to flip it inside the pan Cuddy took charge of Rachel, who was indeed hungry, and arranged a meal for her daughter. Strangely, the dean of medicine didn't feel hungry at all: despite having barely eaten during the day she felt otherwise fulfilled, but when everybody's food was ready and they all gathered around the kitchen's table Cuddy had the feeling her lack of appetite might have been due to something else. She had no words to express it, but then she looked at Rachel to feed her and thought the girl's face was spot on: baffled and surprised, her eyes wide open staring at House, carelessly devouring his meat, like a deer caught in the headlight. If he'd noticed, or cared, House didn't show and went on eating. Cuddy noticed it had never been so easy for her to feed Rachel, the kid was so puzzled by that man she was barely aware of the food showed into her mouth. But once the food was over, House's mouth and brain seemed to be free to focus on reality. He looked straight at Cuddy while gulping down the last bite and the situation just stricken him, the silence between them pushing him back on the chair.

"You didn't think it could have been easy," he scoffed then, nervously tapping his fingers on the table.

"Well," Cuddy sighed wiping Rachel's mouth, "we did go through the nasty part already, so-" She checked on him with a quick glance and he smirked, but if that grin was supposed to reassure her it failed. "If you regret what happened-"

"I'm a grown up man Cuddy. I might have instincts but I do know how to control them. And I can't say," he added in a shameless whisper, "this came totally out of nowhere."

"Then why," she shook her head picking up Rachel to burp her, "you still look so scared? This is strange for me too House, don't underestimate this. And after the conversation we've been through…unless of course you think that was just the heat of the moment-"

Her whole being deflated as she uttered those last words. Still holding Rachel she stood up and kept absently lulling her daughter while pacing the room, a sudden pain filling her heart as she wondered if that was really the problem, asking herself if she too haven't just been caught up in the moment without thinking properly about it. Cuddy had no time to dig deeper into that, she was still holding Rachel lost in her own thoughts when House came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her to whisper gently in her ear.

"I rarely take time to regret things Cuddy, and I sure don't regret this." Lulled by his words and touch, Cuddy immediately relaxed in his arms. "I'm just trying to figure out how to make this work now, going back to Lex and everything else."

House couldn't read Cuddy's reaction on her face, the moment she turned around she was all over him, kissing him and evoking the sensation of a few hours before. At least until Rachel decided she had something to say, and gibbered fidgeting in her mom's arms. They broke apart from the kiss with an odd smile, House grumbled something and squeezed her hips, then went for the coffee machine. He was still pouring himself a generous amount of it when Cuddy placed Rachel back in her seat, adding almost absently.

"I called Dr. Brown this morning," she threw out there casually and immediately saw House's back tense, so she pushed deeper. "To thank him, it's been nice of him give you all these days off."

There was no need to let the words suspended in the air, the hint was strong enough. And when House finally dared to turn around and face her, one thing was clear on his face.

He was screwed, massively screwed.

And somewhat saved for a moment too, when the doorbell rang forcing Cuddy to postpone whatever that was.


	43. Chapter 43

_It's a slow pace, but we're really close to the end_

* * *

43

He had to think fast, the last echo of the doorbell was still in the air and he quickly browsed his options.

From her spot, Cuddy saw his eyes flicker and move frantically from her to the door and then to Rachel, who was looking around amused for whatever the reason. She could sense it, House was valuing his options: be the one hanging around with Rachel, or answering the door.

Cuddy was not surprised when he absently shrugged and quickly moved, grasping the cane on his way to the door. She bit at her bottom lip and sighed, reaching out for Rachel and telling herself that was something that would have needed time, and no pressure from her at all, to take off. Therefore she focused on Rachel and lulled her daughter, leaving House taking care of the door.

Which turned out to bite him in the ass, because as he opened the front door relieved for the dodged risk, House had to drop his celebration when he found himself facing Wilson. House's first reaction was to beat him with the cane and run away, instead he pulled slightly back, tilting his chin up and giving his friend a suspicious and daring expression, more or less the same suspicious and curios one the oncologist had on his face. The two men stared at each other, saying nothing: Wilson struggling to believe House was there, and House desperately regretting his choice to open the door. Unknowingly, they were actually in for the same result: House was trying to figure out a way to get rid of Wilson, while the oncologist himself was looking for one to get the hell out of there, before things could go from just odd to extremely awkward. They still hadn't uttered a single word when Cuddy poked her head from the kitchen door, curious for the deep and prolonged silence.

"House, who is-" She paused and frowned when House gave her an annoyed look, nodding over at Wilson, and then she smiled at the oncologist increasing House's annoyance. "Wilson, hi. Come in."

House's glare was indeed intimidating, but feeling safe thank to Cuddy's invitation Wilson took a step forward, stopping when House seemed intentioned not to leave him room. The oncologist growled as he stepped aside, and not so enthusiastically showed him the way in with an exaggerated invitation gesture.

"House," Wilson muttered in an absent greeting, chewing a grin on his lips.

"Wilson," he answered back in the same flat tone, yet not amused at all.

Still smiling, the oncologist preceded House to the kitchen, where Cuddy was cleaning up the rest of their "breakfast". She looked at them, Wilson glowing and House looking everywhere but at her, and she gave the oncologist a small nod and a resigned smile.

"Coffee?" Cuddy offered Wilson.

"Uhm-" He looked over at House, who shook his head no, then went back to Cuddy "Yes, of course."

"Well," House huffed as soon as Wilson sat down at the table, "since you're about to drink my coffee I'm gonna have a shower. Unless you want to take that one too."

Cuddy said nothing and neither did Wilson. She knew better what she could let go, and Wilson had no idea what he had exactly jumped into, therefore House took advantage of their silence and left the room. Sipping his coffee Wilson watched him limp out of the room, then looked over at Cuddy who was playing with Rachel and seemed careless of the entire situation.

"No need to feel guilty Wilson," she said then trying to reassure him. "Things were odd even before you got here."

"Good to know I didn't interrupt anything."

"I didn't say that," Cuddy clarified with a hint of regret, then she picked up Rachel. "And if you don't want this conversation to end too, you'll have to follow me in the nursery."

Wilson was not fond of baby powder and diapers, but if that was the price to pay… With no hesitation, he stood up and followed Cuddy. On their way to Rachel's room they heard the shower, then once in the nursery Wilson stood near the door, at a safe distance from the changing operations.

"So," he asked then, moving to the couch and watching Cuddy changing Rachel. "I just stopped by to see how you girls were doing. It looks like you're both doing quite fine."

"We're adults Wilson." Cuddy stated with a calm voice, making look even a diaper change quite classy. "If you have something to ask just do it."

"Will you answer?"

"Of course I will." Cuddy took her time to strap on her giggling daughter the new and clean diaper, tickling her belly. Then she looked over at him with a malicious grin. "Only the PG13 part of course."

"So that's how you bribed him into stay? Sex?"

"As a matter of fact Wilson, he came to me," she pointed out, but then seemed to remember something and added with an absent smile. "After I went after him."

"And you think…this is a good idea?"

"Probably the best worst idea of my life," she confessed without missing a bit, then she sat down on the floor watching Rachel play, and she gave Wilson an annoyed look. "Oh c'mon Wilson, like you wouldn't want for this to happen too."

"I can't say I didn't," he agreed joining them on the carpet and waving at Rachel with a teddy bear. "I just question the timing."

"We already missed the right one…if there's ever been any," Cuddy stated painfully. "We lost enough time already. We talked, we fought…apparently the two are bound to go together with us, and eventually we found one thing it mattered to agree about."

"Which would be?"

"That as long as it lasts, this relationship will be an exclusive one." House thundered from the door causing both of them to turn in his direction.

Wilson seemed suddenly scared, while Cuddy tried to keep herself together. However barked out like a caged dog on a fence, that sentence was much needed for her. Right before Wilson came, House had indeed made a point there was no regret or stepping back for him, but with all that oddness around a public display was the kind of show off she could use. From his spot House darted the trio sitting on the ground, then scoffed and stepped forward until he was standing right in front of Wilson, hovering above him.

"An extremely, exclusive, one."

Baffled, the oncologist looked up at House thinking his cane have never looked so menacing, and started to relax only when House released him from his gaze and slowly sat down on the ground next to Cuddy. She was as surprised as Wilson, she wasn't used to be claimed that way, let alone by someone she hadn't expect to be so obvious about that. Chances were House was just messing with Wilson and show off an excessive confidence, some preventive defence to put up against the oncologist's inevitable seek for answers…and Cuddy hoped it could work for him, especially when her cell phone called from her bedroom.

House was just about to reach out for her when the sound came and she gave him a smile of apology, not for the fact she was about to abandon him with Wilson, but because she left Rachel with them. Cuddy seriously wished House's plan could work, she was glad Wilson had stopped by because she knew his intention were pure, but he had arrived in the worst moment ever and she didn't want House to lose the focus on their previous conversation. Which she hoped to start over as soon as possible.

"Wow, that was fast," Wilson muttered once Cuddy had left, looking at House sitting on the ground with Rachel patting his shoes. "One night together and she's already having you babysit."

"Now, don't you think you're exaggerating things now?" House scoffed stretching his arms behind his back and leaning on them, then added. "Technically, it hasn't been a night yet."

"House, I'd loved to play semantic with you but mama told me not to. And there's one thing we should really talk about." House had to admit it, Wilson knew how to get his attention when he wanted to, and he gave him a small nod to encourage him to go on. "I was right. You couldn't leave without dealing with it, you had to. You," Wilson pointed his finger at him, "could not let this one go, not just like that, not again. You just couldn't leave again, you…you don't give a damn about what I'm saying. Why aren't you giving a damn about what I'm saying? You're all about being right, why are you letting me brag about you being wrong?"

To Wilson's major surprise House just shrugged, then held his cane from the tip and stretched it to push out of Rachel's reach the cell phone dropped from his pocket.

"You're right, I don't like to be proven wrong," he said then with a huff, watching Rachel trying to get hold of the hook of his cane. "But I also believe results matter more than then way you get there."

"So…you mean-"

"This chase of yours is useless Wilson. It's been nothing but a bunch of hours, if you're looking for juicy and dirty details-" He shrugged again and stood up leaning on the cane, and headed to the door. "But don't worry, when we'll have them we'll pay attention not to share them with you."

"House," the oncologist muttered pointing down at Rachel, but House didn't turn around. "Are you going to leave the kid here on her own?"

"Nope," he answered, but then left the room, leaving Wilson staring at Rachel with a quite scared expression.

No wonder then when he came downstairs after less than a minute, he was holding the kid like a ticking bomb and rushed her in Cuddy's arms. The woman looked puzzled while carrying on the conversation on the phone, she gave House a questioning look but he just shrugged dismissing the oncologist behaviour.

"Troubles?" House asked once the call was over.

"No, not really. It's just-" she sighed and shook her head. "With all that happened I forgot I was supposed to welcome a group of new interns. They'll be at the hospital in about one hour."

"I can take care of this Cuddy." Wilson reassured her.

"Oh no Wilson, it's not necessary."

"I just stopped by to see how Rachel was doing, and I'm not gonna let you go back to work today."

"I-" she bit at her bottom lip and smiled. "Thank. You're really kind."

"You're welcome," the oncologist said as they walked to the door. "Just remember it when we'll discuss my next raise."

Cuddy chuckled and thanked him again, House watched the scene from the kitchen and when the door was closed and Wilson gone, he let out a sigh of relief. Which, however, disappeared when she turned around with a malicious grin.

And he realized he was still, if not even more, screwed.


	44. Chapter 44

_With Wilson gone, can now Cuddy get the conversation back on track?_

* * *

44

"So," Cuddy said in a huffed voice, still grinning. "Where were we?"

"Did you just shamelessly lie to Wilson about this whole welcome interns things to get rid of him?" House asked ignoring her sentence, with a grin of his own. "'Cause that was impressive. And kind of sexy."

"Oh yeah, I know!" She cut him off, she had looked thoughtful until that moment, but then an evil smile lightened up her face. "You just got busted."

"You know," he started with a subtle voice, approaching her with a malicious smirk of his own. "This whole resented act of yours is getting extremely hot."

"House," she said in a sharp breath, caused by his sultry voice and the soft caress of his lips on her neck. "I'm not going to trade this for sex."

"Uhm," he murmured while kissing his way up to her mouth, then he stopped and looked at her, shrugging. "I had to try."

"House, I just want to know-"

In that moment, Rachel started to call out for her mother from the kitchen. Cuddy bit at her bottom lip when she saw House sighed relived, but she held his chin and ordered "Living room. Couch." before heading to the kitchen.

There she found Rachel, fidgeting and whining in her seat, stretching her arms toward the water on the table, and Cuddy urged to give her some. Confident House would have done what he'd been told, she took her time to clean up the kitchen then joined him in the living room, where he was crashed on the couch flipping TV channels with the remote. Silent, Cuddy sat down next to him and holding Rachel on her body took the remote from his hand, huffing at his childish groan when she switched off the TV.

"I was watching," he clarified with a pouting face, then rolled his eyes and folded his arms in way too obvious defensive move. "Just to get this straight, I've never said I was still working for Brown. I told Wilson I should have asked my boss and I did, so technically-"

"Technically…I don't give a damn." Cuddy cut him off, then she placed Rachel sitting next to her on the couch and leaned on him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Brown told me you left a couple of months after he hired you. What the hell have you been doing since then?"

"Uhm," House mumbled with his mouth on her head, wrapping his arm around her to hold her closer. "I have a feeling that's not what you really want to know."

"You're right," she groaned in shame, burying her face in his chest and finding it outrageously comfortable and safe. "But I think…I might not like the answer."

"The job," he explained with a soft voice, trying to soothe the effect he knew his words might have on her, "I realized it wasn't giving me anything, not what I was looking for." Cuddy felt his hand seize her arm, then slide until he found one of hers. "I should have known, after all the job was not the reason why I left."

"See, I knew it." Cuddy sighed emerging from his chest and addressing her attention to Rachel, snorting as she added. "I don't like it."

House said nothing for a while, silent and mesmerized as he watched Cuddy interacting with her daughter and try to wipe away the sadness of their conversation by innocently playing with the kid. He'd never thought one could do that, stay next to a child carrying a heavy burden, yet managing to keep it away from the innocent. Maybe because when he was a child no one ever bothered trying to spare him some. In that moment, Rachel seemed to find Cuddy's necklace more entertaining than all of her toys, and mommy seemed to enjoy it too, smiling and making silly faces at her daughter with such a reckless amusement that ended up pushing House's lips up in a hint of smile.

Which he quickly brushed off, terrified, when Rachel seemed to acknowledge his presence and stretched one chubby arm to him. When Cuddy turned around there was no more trace of smile on House's face, and his seriousness passed on her face again.

"So, all the times you said you had to go back…back to what exactly?" Cuddy asked then, shrugging when he rolled his eyes. "You said you do have a job."

"More than one actually," he said lying down on the couch and stretching his legs on the coffee table, absently massaging his forehead. "I'm a consultant for-ouch!"

He jumped as he felt a disturbing pressure on his damaged leg. House looked up and found Rachel grabbing his thigh as if she was intentioned to climb on top of him. Cuddy noticed her daughter's action and urged to take her away from House's leg, giving him a worried look as she couldn't read his face, half surprised and confused.

"I'm sorry House, she-"

"Hurt?" Rachel's sparkling voice chirped as if she'd just made the biggest discover ever, then she read there must have been something wrong because she frowned and brought one hand to her mouth, chewing her fingers. "Hurt?"

This time she said it with a little voice cracking with guilt, her eyes wet seeking for comfort in her mom. And that was why neither woman saw House's hand come into the picture, oddly patting the kid's head with an unnatural gesture.

"Sometimes." He said then, and Cuddy had to admit his voice sounded more reassuring then his moves. Then he stood up and started to pace the room, massaging his leg. "I guess you could call me a free agent. I consult with insurance companies, sometimes private labs. I saved a couple of doctor's asses and thrown under the bus one or two potential frauds. But I consult with police mainly."

"Police?" Cuddy asked, shocked. "W-what? How?"

"You'd be surprised how many non-violent murders are out there," he stated, and Cuddy had to smile at the way the timbre of his voice brightened up as he spoke. "Poison, allergic reaction, food…give a cop and dead body with a bullet and they have something to start with, but they're not as good when there's no real evidence."

"I'm pretty sure they have forensic for this kind of thing," she pointed out.

"And doctors to cure diseases." He seemed to agree with a smirk. "But sometimes a sick person is more than that, and a symptom turn out to be a clue, usually the one police is missing. And I happen to know how to make the connection."

"I'm not sure I want to know how you ended up into this," Cuddy muttered with a sight, then stood up and approached him holding Rachel in her arms. "But there's one thing I'd like to know."

"It's not dangerous Cuddy. When they call me I spend my time mostly between labs and morgues-"

"Oh, that's charming."

"It's not like I'm spending my days at the precinct eating donuts. I actually found out it's quite a cliché, especially now with this crappy organic food fashion mounting up and-"

"House."

"And I have a feeling cops don't like it when civilians mess around in their investigation. Feds are even worst of course, they don't like anybody to step in their cases."

"You work for the FBI?" Cuddy was more surprised than ever, but let her own question drop to pick up the original one. "That's not what I want to know." Now the one being puzzled, House folded his arms and frowned, curios and even more when she came closer with a malicious smile. "Do you have a badge?"

"Women," he murmured back, his face relaxing in a vicious smirk of his own. "What's with you and uniforms?"

And then they started to laugh.

Tension, fear, regret, guilt, resentment…those last few days have been filled with any kind of negative emotions, and a laugh was the most unexpected thing for them, and at the same time so much needed. It spread to Rachel too, although she had no clue about what was so funny, but both adults focused on enjoying the simple freedom of the moment for themselves.

Then the moment vanished, like on an annoying swing, bringing them back to reality.

"It's my job Cuddy, I have to go back to it," House said going back to the couch.

"I didn't know murders come on a schedule."

"I might not have timings, but I do have obligations," he replied already knowing where she was heading. "I got a call for a case, an insurance company wants me to check on a client, they think he might be faking icterus to-"

"That is quite hard to fake," Cuddy observed.

"Yeah but shush, don't tell them," he shushed her with a conspiring face. "I've seen a 40 inches flat screen that would look pretty good in my living room."

"And," she tried, she placed Rachel in her box and stood near the window, looking at House, "here too, I'm sure."

"Cuddy, don't-"

"Why shouldn't I try House?" She urged to ask sensing his attempt to stop her. "I fought for you, do you really think I'd stop now?"

"This isn't about fighting Cuddy, fight it's not always necessary." He tried to reassure her, watching her as she came close and sat with him. "As I said, there's nothing I regret or intend to ignore about us."

"Then what will this big "but" I sense coming be about?" Cuddy asked still a little worried, but then he laid down on the couch resting his head on her lap, a gesture that made his following words easier to be received.

"We shouldn't try this Cuddy, I know I can't do this job any more not…not the way it used to be. I can't think straight around you, not the way I need in order to work."

"It was a peculiar situation, you have to admit it," she said caressing his face, amazed by how he could say things difficult like those, and at the same time being so calm and relaxed in her arms.

"Nobody can assure me it won't be the same over and over again. I could have figured out what was wrong with Rachel sooner, if I hadn't let my feelings get in the way." He confessed, his eyes were now closed and he rolled on his side curling up on her. "I didn't want to speak with you, I couldn't bear it and it took me so long to find out. If I'd confronted you earlier on Rachel's diet-" Cuddy heard him grumble out in frustration, and moan painfully. "What if it happens again?"

"You can't know it House."

"Neither can you, and none of us would be able to control it. The reason why I'm so good at what I do is because I don't care. I'm only invested on it in terms of a personal challenge, but you…you make me care."

"House, caring for a patient is not a bad thing," she said with a soft mocking voice, glad to see him chuckle too. But then he looked up and touched her face to guide her to look down at him.

"I didn't care for the patient," he admitted, hoping his following words could explain the rest instead of making him look like a monster. "I cared for you, the way you felt, how hurt you would have been if I'd failed. You were right, I don't want people to put trust in me so I won't let them down, and you're the last person on earth I'd want to let down Cuddy."

"I understand this House, but how do you think you could disappoint me by trying?"

"It's more than this Cuddy, you being my boss. It was a constant battle even before, with us in a relationship God knows how many things can go wrong." House moved and sat next to her, holding her in his arms. "I know I'd have too much on my mind, worried about either screwing things with work or with you. And when I fear to screw up something I usually end up doing so."

"Good God House!" Cuddy groaned holding him back, searching for the odd contrast between his weak voice and his strong embrace. "Sounds like you gave this a lot of thinking…I hate when you do that!"

"It goes round and round in circles," he explained. "When I decided to come here I knew I've never been able to face you properly, I had to think about a strategy." Still talking, actually more whispering, House leaned down on her starting a trail of kisses on her neck. "Don't you see what you do to me? I can't control myself around you." His mouth went on, his tongue drawing circles on her neck and behind her ear until he felt her hand clutching the back of his head. "I feel I should try to get some sense into you about this and I can't find enough for myself."

Cuddy had to admit they had an idea of what he was talking about, staying focused with is mouth and hands working on her was impossible, and she wondered herself why they haven't gone for round number two yet. Not only she let him do, but she fought and claimed his mouth, conquering a kiss which left both of them breathless, at least until it slowly died and she leaned down on him.

"Then," she breathed on his neck as they both laid down on the couch, "we're not going to give this a chance?"

"Don't try this is our chance," House said caressing her head resting on his chest. "Not working together, not living together."

"Being together…by not being together?" She asked, and stretched her neck to check on House, who smirked and shrugged innocently. "You know what's the most unnerving part of your sick reasoning? It works."

"To be honest Cuddy," he muttered painfully, wrapping his arms around her, "sometimes I hate that too."

"When do you have to leave?"

"I have a plane tomorrow at 8 am."

"Stay here tonight," Cuddy said immediately, holding him thigh.

"If I say no, are you going to put up another fight which would end up in wild sex?" He questioned her, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously, grunting at her reproachful look. Then he sighed and muttered on her hair. "Of course I'll stay here, my bed and couch are all packed up-"


	45. Chapter 45

_Second to last chapter, almost there._

* * *

45

She used to like airports. Since from the first time she'd taken a plane, she'd been fascinated by those small cities where you can find everything you need, people always smiling at you and from where you can easily go everywhere. Airports meant travels and discovers, some of them shared with her family and therefore so much cherished in her memory. They meant evasion and they made her feel safe, with that parade of stores to provide her with everything yet then, while waiting for House to come out of the restroom and head to the gate, Cuddy came to the conclusion her feelings for airports were about to change. After all, if they had to become part of a recurring routine in her relationship with House, with waiting and greetings and welcomes and delays, she couldn't see how she was supposed to like them.

"It's not that bad, the distance I mean."

Appalled, Cuddy looked up at Wilson who smiled at her puzzled face, then he handled her the coffee cup he had brought.

"You've tried it?" She asked as he sat down next to her. "I didn't know you had a distance relationship."

"Not a girlfriend," he sighed with a grin, then nodded over at the bathrooms. "But with House, I have 8 months of first-hand experience."

"And you wonder why people kept suggesting strange things," Cuddy muttered with a chuckle, then bit at her bottom lip. "You think it can work for us?"

"That is the mother of all questions."

"Now you're being helpful," she pointed out bitter, but Wilson smirked.

"You've known each other for years, worked together, fought, teamed up…I don't see why you can't. But maybe make it work would be easier if you won't let your past and your history weight too much on the present."

"When did you become so clever Wilson?" Cuddy asked mockingly.

"I've always been," the oncologist whined in response. "You just failed to notice because of that smartass of your boyfriend."

"Yeah," she sighed, and Wilson didn't fail to see what a wide smile the word boyfriend brought up to her lips. "I've never asked…how was he? In Lexington, I mean."

Unsure whether to answer or not, Wilson studied Cuddy's face, truthfully taken aback. He'd been waiting, and fearing, that question for months knowing it would have put him in a crappy position, debating on which friend he should let down and betray. Up to Cuddy to wait until then, when it seemed pointless to hold back, when the answer itself seemed harmless.

"He needed to leave Cuddy. I'm not saying it was your fault, but we all know it was because of you." She bit at her lip but didn't flinch, encouraging the oncologist to go on. "Right after his mom died he needed to shake things up, and when I was there with him, we did nothing more nor less than what we usually do, yet it was different for me."

"How?"

"I enjoyed it too, sincerely." He glanced beyond her, spotting House limping in their direction. "Because for once I didn't have to wonder if he was really ok or just pretending to be." He looked at Cuddy, who was deeply lost in her own thoughts. "I'm sorry, I guess it's weird to hear this."

"No, not at all." She reassured him, standing up and preparing a serene smile for House. "I spent months hoping he was doing ok, it's such a relief to hear he was. It's good to know it worked, for at least one of us."

Satisfied, Wilson smiled one more time before House came too close to see, and Cuddy took a couple of steps to meet up with him.

"Missing me already?" House hinted when she came close, yet he was the one wrapping one arm around her.

"Just tired to guard your bag," she explained mockingly, then her face darkened. "You should go, the boarding of your flight will close in 30 minutes."

The straight approach was usually the best one when it came to them: no need to dance around the separation, not talking about it wouldn't have postponed the moment anyway. House nodded and squeezed Cuddy's hand, then took the bag Wilson was offering him and adjusted it on his shoulder as they made their way to security area. There was a heavy atmosphere but not sombre, nothing compared to their last goodbye, and as they moved on Wilson slowed down, and when they approached the last security he stopped and exchanged a quick nod with House.

"Well I guess," the oncologist finally muttered, giving a quick glance to Cuddy who had stepped away from them for the moment, "I won't be coming to Lexington next week end."

"Looks like it," House mumbled back tapping his cane on the floor. "I guess I should thank you, or something." He added then, nodding over at Cuddy.

"Yep, you probably should." The oncologist agreed with a knowing nod, but then nothing but silence came from House who looked quite unease, and eventually Wilson snorted and chuckled. "You're welcome."

Relieved he hadn't needed to face the difficult part, House gave his friend a small nod. After they've exchanged an half smile the oncologist stepped back, leaving the spot to Cuddy.

"I get from the amounts of grunts that was one of those men's talks."

"If I recall," he murmured teasingly while pulling her closer, "there were a lot of grunts and groans between us too last night."

Right before kissing him Cuddy smiled broadly. The night before, knowing they would have had to wait an entire week before being together again, they had let their bodies and desire do most of the talking. Yet in that moment, with hated words of farewell trapped in her throat, Cuddy regretted the lack of conversation from the previous night and felt the desperate need to season that moment with something useful. But she was struggling to find her own voice, and when House held her in his arms and spoke softly she had to bless his bluntness.

"There's no right or wrong thing to say, this much I know," he said, then pulled back and looked right in her face with a smile. "Whatever suits you better."

"Call me tonight," Cuddy said then, feeling less stupid than what she had thought.

"I will," he promised, and they felt there was no need to add anything else.

They kissed again, they felt it helped to soothe the pain of separation, but they knew they've had to practice on farewell speeches. Then from the speaker came the last call for House's flight, and after one last look at Cuddy he headed to the gates. Some minutes after as the plane took off, he wondered how leaving behind a place and people for the second time could make him feel so different.

He was struggling to do all at once, carrying the bag full of groceries, using the key to open the door and talking on the phone. His first day back in Lexington had proved to be quite busy. The insurance company he was consulting for was so eager to clear up things about that so called icterus case that they had sent someone to pick him up at the airport, and between the tests he had been asked to review and all the paperwork he haven't had time to process anything else.

Yet he had been energized by the recent events and that, combined with the fraud he was about to unmask, his good mood had helped him figure out what he needed to know by lunch time, earning him a nice check and a free meal gently offered by the company. They had brought him to an expensive restaurant, but no matter the final bill House knew it had been just a drip in the sea compared to the amount of money they saved thank to him.

Food had been great, company awful and his mind had easily drifted away, listing the things he needed to take care of. And then after a stop at the cemetery for a greeting to his mom, a rapid visit to aunt Sarah, who had been harassing him every day since he had left, and a passage at the store to refill his stash of food, as he stepped inside his place he knew exactly what the next voice on his list was.

He finally managed to dismiss the person on the phone, promising the detective he would have checked the dossier of the case, then House finally closed the door behind him. In the kitchen he took his time to store the food away and serve himself a glass of bourbon, then tossed his coat on the table and carried cell phone and glass with him in the living room. Sighing he laid down on the couch staring up at the ceiling, resting the glass on the floor as he flipped the phone open, his thumb brushing the keys and his mind wandering.

"Whatever suits you better," he muttered to himself.

Yet, now that he had to call her he felt he was about to slip into a stupid cliché. But he had promised, and he was dying to hear her voice.

A smile came up to his face as his fingers found their way to Cuddy's number, so easily despite they haven't composed it in a long time, but he found himself holding his breath waiting for an answer.

"_Cuddy."_

"Thank God!" He blurted "I thought your mom was about to answer."

"_She's giving Rachel a bath."_ Cuddy informed him with a hint of resentment, but as she spoke again House had a feeling it wasn't because of him. _"Since she came she had spent every second with her, she barely noticed I was gone for 2 hours this morning."_

"Good think we left before she arrived," he mumbled, a shiver running down his spine thinking he had missed that encounter of the third kind.

"_Yeah,"_ she said. _"She did ask who I had to drive to the airport. I didn't like to lie to her."_

"Thought you said it comes pretty natural," House quipped. "And you didn't lie to her. You didn't drive me to the airport, Wilson did."

"_I said I have no problem lying to her, doesn't mean I like it. Especially about this."_

"Here we go," House muttered, yet trying to sound reassuring. "How come we just decided to try with a distance relationship and we're already on the meeting the parent's issue?"

"_A relationship is a relationship House,"_ she clarified, but House could hear her voice soften. _"And this is not an issue."_

"Cuddy, all I'm saying is-" He sighed sitting on the couch and toeing his shoes off, before stretching his legs on the coffee table "Are we sure we want to waste this time arguing?"

"_We're talking House,"_ Cuddy whispered, House closed his eyes and could feel her hand caress his face as she spoke. _"I can't see how this could be wasted time."_

"I do," he said after a long silence, which he needed to absorb and dissect the deep and wonderful meaning of her words. "Especially since we could be using this time for more useful things."

"_Such as?"_ She asked, now partially intrigued, and House smirked.

"What are you wearing?"

He asked then with a sultry voice, to which Cuddy answered with a laugh full of joy and honest amusement. And however filtered by the phone, it was loud and powerful enough to fill the usually silent space of his living room for the first time in months.


	46. Chapter 46

_And so it finishes. Hope you had a good time!_

* * *

46

She fumbled with the keys to lock the door, but her fingers were moving faster than her brain and she ended up dropping them.

No, she thought closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to focus: hurrying up was never the right answer. Cuddy stopped and calmed down, she was picking up the keys when she remembered there was no need to lock the door since Marina was inside with Rachel, and despite the situation she found a reason to smile. She was late, House's plane would have landed in 30 minutes, and because of a running late meeting she wouldn't have been there to welcome him. Nothing irreparable, of course: House would have waited for her to pick him up. But she couldn't help but think she had to take it as a bad sign or something: after all, that was the first weekend of their new and unstable relationship and there was no doubt it was starting off under a unlucky star.

With her calm and composure back on track, Cuddy started to search her purse for the car keys, praying in her head to keep it cool too while driving. Her goal to be there, standing right outside the arrivals area to greet him have already vanished. and the idea to have him wait was still more appealing than have him come to see her in a hospital because of a car crash.

"I'll never hear the end of it," Cuddy mouthed to herself. She could almost see him, bragging at her bedside-

She did hear the car coming from the street, but wasn't focused enough to realize it was slowing down, let alone realize it had stopped right in front of her place. But she did hear the door open and close, and when she looked up the frowning expression on her face melted to leave space to an ecstatic one.

Because to see House standing on her driveway could do her nothing but that.

Cuddy though she must look stupid, with her hand inside the purse like a kid caught with hands in the cookie jar, because House grinned at her. Then the cab driver handed him his bag, breaking the odd picture. Once the car was gone House stepped forward, reaching Cuddy who hadn't moved, and smiling softly he removed her hand from the purse.

"I was early," he said then in a soft voice, enlarging the smile on Cuddy's face.

"I was going to be late," she confessed shamelessly, but for some reason her failure didn't seem that important anymore.

House have gone for eight months and see him again had been nothing but a shock: let him go had been hard the first time, and unbearable the second one. Despite having being with Lucas while House was gone, not a single day had passed without her wondering about him. And in the past week, every second ticking away in her head had been filled with House and their first, shared, memories. Until then they've spent together nothing but a small time, which seemed even less compared to the one they've wasted in their lives. Even the previous weekend time had been split between hope for the future and regret for the past. But after that week spent apart with the poor surrogate of frequent and regulars phone calls, a week she had spent wondering how they could make their time together valuable, the moment she saw House standing in front of her Cuddy immediately learned the one and only lesson she needed to know in order to make it work.

Live it, and enjoy it.

Her body, tensed and frozen, eventually melted thank to the warmth of House's eyes. A wide smile came up to her face and she stepped closer, starting an embrace he soon picked up. That, being held by him, was something she already knew she'd never had enough of. With her face lost in his chest, Cuddy closed her eyes and took a long deep breath inhaling his strong scent. She couldn't see him but House was doing the same, nose diving in her curls and filling his lungs with her perfume, spiced up by the briskly air of the evening. The only thing that broke them apart, was the oddness they suddenly felt.

"Can we move inside?" House muttered in a low voice, absently looking around. "Your neighbours are starting at us, it's creepy."

"They're not staring at us House." Cuddy informed him patting his chest with a knowing look. "They're looking at you."

Baffled, House darted his eyes around scanning the people on their doors and porches, and when Cuddy pulled him by the hem of his jacket he urged to follow her inside. There was no key fumbling and dropping this time, Cuddy opened the door smoothly despite feeling a little shiver caused by the comforting presence of House right behind her, and oddly let him in. House looked at her with a smile, he felt he could have easily gotten hold of the words hanging out by her mouth just by stretching his hand. He had to admit it, she'd been so determined to get what she wanted a week before, so in control while he wasn't, and to see her unease for once was entertaining. But he had no intention to spend the following days repeating her she should just relax and take it easy, so House rolled his eyes and huffed, paying attention she saw and heard him clear while he resolutely limped toward the bedroom.

"I'm starving," he announced as if she'd actually asked. "I'm gonna take a shower while you fix me something, assuming you know how to."

Cuddy stared at him, his tall dangling figure walking away with the bag absently swinging at his side, her first thought being he must have been kidding her. Then she realized she had something to do, someone to do it for and all of sudden nothing else mattered anymore. With his blunt, rude and shameless way, House had showed her the way: tiptoe around each other was with no doubt the last thing on earth they should have been doing.

With a smile and renewed resolution, Cuddy took off jacket and blouse and moved to the kitchen, and she had just done scanning the content of the fridge when Marina came in with Rachel, puzzled to see her still there. Cuddy gave her the explanation and Marina offered to cook instead, so she could stay with Rachel, but she declined the offer. She did the same when the baby sitter offered to keep watching the kid while she was preparing dinner. Marina was a sweetheart and available beyond needs, but Cuddy was struggling to find a polite way to dismiss her, and she was still working on it when House came back.

He had showered and, Cuddy suspected, trimmed his beard a little, but she rolled her eyes when noticed he had the same clothes on. Introduction between House and Marina were a bit odd, enough to achieve what Cuddy hadn't been able to accomplish and make clear with Marina she was no longer needed. Cuddy walked her to the door, assuring she could take the entire weekend free, and once she was gone the dean went back to the kitchen. Puzzled, she stood on the door not spotting House in the room, then his hands came out of nowhere and he pulled her close for a kiss that immediately had her legs tremble like jelly.

Her abandon was immediate and total. It was like a dose of fresh air in a hot sunny day, and when it was over if left them satiated and fulfilled, other than breathless.

"I knew it." House finally said with a groaning voice.

"What?" She asked with the save weak whisper.

"I knew no matter how good I remembered it was kissing you, the true thing is so much better."

"Hum," Cuddy moaned on his neck, saying really nothing else so he added.

"Let's hope it will be the same with sex."

This time Cuddy laughed and hit him playfully, but also gave him a lascivious look before parting from him with a quick kiss on his lips. Then she went back to the stove, smiling even when House pointed out he was deadly serious about that. Eventually he sat down at the table next to Rachel, accommodated on her high chair, smirking back at the kid who was smiling at him, evidently satisfied to have him there. Then she stretched in his direction, leaning forward so much that House feared she could fell off of that trap. Then she suddenly stopped, and with a serious little face snuff him deeply.

"Still smell good," she announced then with a smile, clapping her hands together.

Cuddy laughed at her daughter and feed herself with House's smile, knowing in that moment they've both been waiting for the appeal on Rachel's judgment. If they were about to start writing yet another story, they couldn't have asked for a better incipit.

**THE END**


End file.
